ROSTOV had arrived at Tilsit on the day least suitable for interceding in Denisov's behalf. It was out of the question for him to go himself to the general in attendance, since he was wearing civilian dress, and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so, and Boris, even had he been willing, could not have done so on the day following Rostov's arrival. On that day, the 27th of June, the preliminaries of peace were signed. The Emperors exchanged orders: Alexander received the Legion of Honour, and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrey of the first degree, and that day had been fixed for the dinner to be given by a battalion of French guards to the Preobrazhensky battalion. The Emperors were to be present at this banquet. Rostov felt so uncomfortable and ill at ease with Boris, that when the latter peeped in at him after supper he pretended to be asleep, and the next day he left early in the morning to avoid seeing him. In a frock coat and round hat, Nikolay strolled about the town, staring at the French and their uniforms, examining the streets and the houses where the Russian and the French Emperors were staying. In the market-place he saw tables set out and preparations for the banquet; in the streets he saw draperies hung across with flags of the Russian and French colours, and huge monograms of A and N. In the windows of the houses, too, there were flags and monograms.
“Boris doesn't care to help me, and I don't care to apply to him. That question's closed,” thought Nikolay; “everything's over between us, but I'm not going away from here without having done all I can for Denisov, and, above all, getting the letter given to the Emperor. To the Emperor? … He is here!” thought Rostov, who had unconsciously gone back to the house occupied by Alexander.
Saddle horses were standing at the entrance, and the suite were riding up, evidently getting ready for the Emperor to come out.
“Any minute I may see him,” thought Rostov. “If only I could give him the letter directly, and tell him all … could they really arrest me for my frock coat? Impossible. He would understand on which side the truth lay. He understands everything, he knows everything. Who can be juster and more magnanimous than he? Besides, even if they were to arrest me for being here, what would it matter?” he thought, looking at an officer who was going into the house. “Why, people go in, I see. Oh! it's all nonsense. I'll go and give the letter to the Emperor myself; so much the worse for Drubetskoy who has driven me to it.” And all at once, with a decision he would never have expected of himself, Rostov, fingering the letter in his pocket, went straight into the house where the Emperor was staying.
“No, this time I won't miss my opportunity as I did after Austerlitz,” he thought, expecting every minute to meet the Emperor, and feeling a rush of blood to the heart at the idea. “I will fall at his feet and will beseech him. He will lift me up, hear me out, and thank me too. ‘I am happy when I can do good, but to cancel injustice is the greatest happiness,' ” Rostov fancied the Emperor would say to him. And he passed up the stairs regardless of the inquisitive eyes that were turned upon him. The broad staircase led straight upwards from the entry; on the right was a closed door. Below, under the stairs, was a door to the rooms on the ground floor.
“Whom are you looking for?” some one asked him.
“To give a letter, a petition, to his majesty,” said Nikolay, with a quiver in his voice.
“A petition—to the officer on duty, this way; please” (he was motioned to the door below). “Only it won't receive attention.”
Hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov felt panic-stricken at what he was doing; the idea that he might meet the Emperor at any minute was so fascinating and consequently so terrible, that he was ready to fly; but an attendant meeting him opened the door to the officer's room for him, and Rostov went in.
A short, stout man of about thirty in white breeches, high boots, and in a batiste shirt, apparently only just put on, was standing in this room. A valet was buttoning behind him some fine-looking, new, silk-embroidered braces, which for some reason attracted Rostov's notice. The stout man was conversing with some one in the adjoining room.
“A good figure and in her first bloom,” he was saying, but seeing Rostov he broke off and frowned.
“What do you want? A petition? …”
“What is it?” asked some one in the next room.
“Another petition,” answered the man in the braces.
“Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly; we must go.”
“Later, later, to-morrow. It's too late.…”
Rostov turned away and would have gone out, but the man in the braces stopped him.
“From whom is it? Who are you?”
“From Major Denisov,” answered Rostov.
“Who are you—an officer?”
“A lieutenant, Count Rostov.”
“What audacity! Send it through the proper channel. And go along with you, go.…” And he began putting on the uniform the valet handed him.
Rostov went out into the hall again, and noticed that by this time there were a great many officers and generals in full dress, and he had to pass through their midst.
Cursing his temerity, ready to faint at the thought that he might any minute meet the Emperor and be put to shame before him and placed under arrest, fully aware by now of all the indecorum of his action, and regretting it, Rostov was making his way out of the house with downcast eyes, through the crowd of the gorgeously dressed suite, when a familiar voice called to him, and a hand detained him.
“Well, sir, what are you doing here in a frock coat?” asked the bass voice.
It was a cavalry general who had won the Emperor's special favour during this campaign, and had formerly been in command of the division in which Rostov was serving.
Rostov began in dismay to try and excuse himself, but seeing the good-naturedly jocose face of the general, he moved on one side, and in an excited voice told him of the whole affair, begging him to intercede for Denisov, whom the general knew.
The general on hearing Rostov's story shook his head gravely. “I'm sorry, very sorry for the gallant fellow; give me the letter.”
Rostov had scarcely time to give him the letter and tell him all about Denisov's scrape, when the clank of rapid footsteps with spurs was heard on the stairs, and the general left his side and moved up to the steps. The gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran downstairs and went to their horses. The postillion, the same one who had been at Austerlitz, led up the Emperor's horse, and on the stairs was heard a light footstep which Rostov knew at once. Forgetting the danger of being recognised, Rostov moved right up to the steps together with some curious persons from the town; and again after two years he saw the features he adored: the same face, the same glance, the same walk, the same combination of majesty and mildness.… And the feeling of enthusiasm and devotion to the Emperor rose up again in Rostov's heart with all its old force. The Emperor wore the uniform of the Preobrazhensky regiment, white elk-skin breeches and high boots, and a star which Rostov did not recognise (it was the star of the Legion of Honour). He came out on the steps, holding his hat under his arm, and putting on his glove. He stopped, looking round and seeming to shed brightness around him with his glance. To some one of the generals he said a few words. He recognised, too, the former commander of Rostov's division, smiled to him, and summoned him to him.
All the suite stood back, and Rostov saw the general talking at some length to the Emperor.
The Emperor said a few words to him, and took a step towards his horse. Again the crowd of the suite and the street gazers, among whom was Rostov, moved up closer to the Emperor. Standing still with his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the cavalry general and said aloud with the obvious intention of being heard by all: “I cannot, general, and I cannot because the law is mightier than I am,” and he put his foot in the stirrup. The general bent his head respectfully; the Emperor took his seat and galloped up the street. Rostov, wild with enthusiasm, ran after him with the crowd.
罗斯托夫在替杰尼索夫求情感到棘手的那天来到蒂尔西特。因为他穿着一身燕尾服，未经上级允准擅自来到蒂尔西特，所以他本人不能去见执勤的将军；鲍里斯即使愿意，也不能在罗斯托夫抵达后次日办妥这件事，六月二十七日之天，签订了最初的和约条款。二位皇帝互换了勋章：亚历山大获得荣誉团勋章，拿破仑获得圣安德烈一级勋章，是日法国近卫营为普列奥布拉任斯基营举办了一次宴会。两位国王均须出席这次盛大的宴会。
罗斯托夫和鲍里斯在一起时，觉得不好意思，很不舒服，晚餐之后鲍里斯顺便来看他，他假装睡着了，第二天清早，他尽力设法不和他见面，离开了住宅。尼古拉穿着燕尾服，戴着礼帽，在城里徘徊游荡，仔细地观看法国人和他们穿的制服，仔细地观察街道和俄皇、法皇居住的楼房。他在广场上看见摆好的餐桌，正准备饮宴。在街上他看见悬挂的帷幕和不同色彩的俄法两国国旗以及A（亚历山大的第一个字母）N（拿破仑的第一个字母）大型花字头。家家户户的窗子上也悬挂着两面国旗和花字。
“鲍里斯不愿帮助我，我也不愿和他打交道。这个案子判决了，”尼古拉想道，“我们之间一切都已完结，不过在没有办妥我能替杰尼索夫办到的事情之前，主要是，当我没有把呈文转交国王，国王之前，我万万不能从这儿走开！……他就在这儿！”正当罗斯托夫情不自禁地又向亚历山大占用的楼房走去时，想道。
有几匹用以乘骑的马停在这栋楼房门口，侍从们正在集合，显然是为国王出巡作准备。
“我随时有可能看见他，”罗斯托夫想道，“我只要能把呈文直接转交给他，说出全部情况就行了……难道仅为燕尾服一事就会把我逮捕吗？这没有可能！他会明白，正义在谁一边。他什么都明白，什么都知晓。究竟有谁比他更公允，更宽宏大量呢？倘若因为我待在这里而把我逮捕起来，那不算倒霉！”他一面想着，一面望着那个走进国王占用的楼房的军官。“岂不是可以进去。哎，全是废话。我走去把这份呈文亲自交给国王，这样对德鲁别茨科伊更糟，不过是他把我弄到这个地步的。”忽然罗斯托夫摸了摸口袋中的呈文，出乎意料地毅然启步，径直地向国王占用的楼房走过去。
“不，我现在不能像在奥斯特科茨战役后那样放过这个好机会，”他想道，时刻期待着遇见国王，一出现这个念头，他就觉得热血涌上心头。“我跪倒在国王脚下，恳求他施恩，他扶起我来，听我直言，还要感激我。”“当我能够行善的时候，我感到幸福，能够纠正不公平的事情才是最大的幸福。”罗斯托夫脑海中想象到国王将要对他说出这番话。他于是从那些好奇地观望他的人身旁走过去，登上国王临时占用的住宅的台阶。
宽大的楼梯从门廊一直通到楼上，右边可以看见一扇关上的门，楼梯下面有一扇门，通往楼房的底层。
“您要找谁？”有人问。
“将呈文、禀帖递给他陛下。”尼古拉带着颤抖的嗓音说。
“禀帖——请交到值日这里来（有人向他指了指楼下的门），不过他们不会接受的。”
罗斯托夫听见了这种冷淡的嗓音之后，心里害怕他所作的事情，每一瞬间都可能遇见国王的念头具有强烈的诱惑力，因此他感到非常可怕，以致于打算逃走，但是那个遇见他的宫廷侍仆给他打开了通往值日室的门，于是罗斯托夫走进去了。
一个三十来岁的身材不高的长得肥胖的人穿的是一条白色的衬裤，一双高筒皮靴和一件看来是刚刚穿在身上的细麻纱布衬衫，他站在这个房间里；侍仆在他背后给他扣上非常漂亮的用丝线刺绣的新背带，罗斯托夫不知怎的注意到了他的新背带。这个人正和另一间房里的某人说话。
“Bien faite et la beauté du diable．”①这个人说，他看见罗斯托夫之后，停止说话，蹙起了额角。
①法语：姿色娇嫩，体态迷人。
“您有什么事？交呈文？……”
“Qu'est ce que c'est？”①另一间房里的某人发问。
“Encore un petitionnaire”②．那个系背带的人回答。
①法语：什么事情？
②法语：又是一个请愿的人。
“请您告诉他，以后来好了。他马上出门，要动身了。”
“以后，以后，明天吧。太晚了……”
罗斯托夫转过身子，正想走出去，可是那个系背带的人把他拦住了。
“您是从谁那里来的？您是谁？”
“我是从杰尼索夫少校那里来的，”罗斯托夫回答。
“军官，您是谁？”
“中尉，罗斯托夫伯爵。”
“好大的胆子！要经由上级递来。您走吧，走吧……”他开始穿上侍仆递给他的制服。
罗斯托夫又走到外屋并且发现，有许多军官和将军穿着整套阅兵服站在台阶下，罗斯托夫应当从他们身边走去。
罗斯托夫责骂自己鲁莽，当他想到随时有可能遇见国王，在他面前丢脸，还要给人逮捕起来的时候，他就紧张得几乎要屏住气息，他十分明白自己的行为很不光彩，感到懊恼，于是他垂下眼帘，从这幢楼房中钻了出来，一大群穿着华丽的侍从站在楼房的周围，正在这时有一个熟人喊了他一声，这个人的手把他拦了。
“我的老天，您身穿燕尾服待在这里做什么？”具有男低音嗓子的人问他。
这是个骑兵将军，在这次战役中得到国王的特殊宠信，罗斯托夫过去在他的师部里服役时，他是个师长。
罗斯托夫大吃一惊，开始替自己辩护，可是他看见将军的和善的戏谑的面孔之后，便走到一边去了，他带着激动的嗓音向将军转向了全部案情，并请求将军为他所熟悉的杰尼索夫鸣不平。将军听了罗斯托夫说的话，很严肃地摇摇头。
“替这个很英俊的小伙子惋惜，惋惜，把禀帖交给我吧。”
罗斯托夫刚刚交出了禀帖，叙述了杰尼索夫的全部案情，就从楼梯口传来疾速的步履声和马刺声，于是将军从他身边走开，步入门廊。国王的侍从先生们从楼梯上跑下，向马匹面前走去。那个曾经参加奥斯特利茨战役的驯马师海涅牵来了国王骑的马，楼梯上传来了轻盈的步履声，罗斯托夫一下子就识出了是谁的步履声。罗斯托夫忘记了他自己有被人认出的危险，于是跟随着几个充满好奇心的居民向台阶走去；在两年之后他又看见了他所崇拜的仪容、面孔、目光、走路姿式，他又看见了那种伟大和温顺的结合……罗斯托夫的心灵中复苏了往昔一样强烈的喜悦和对国王的爱戴。国王穿着普列奥布拉任斯基兵团的制服——白色的驼鹿皮裤和高筒皮靴，佩戴着一枚罗斯托夫不熟悉的勋章（这就是légion d'lhonneur①），走上了台阶，手臂夹着礼帽，戴上手套。他已停步，环顾四周，并用自己的目光照耀着周围的一切。他对某个将军说了几句话。他也认出了罗斯托夫从前的师长并对他微露笑容，把他喊到自己身边来。
①法语：荣誉团勋章。
侍从们后退一步，罗斯托夫看见了这位将军和国王说了相当久的话。
国王对他说了几句话，跨了一步，走到那匹马前面。一群侍从和街上的人群（罗斯托夫也在人群中）又向国王身边走过来。国王站在马旁边，用手握住马鞍，把脸转向骑兵将军，声音洪亮地讲话，显然是想要大家都听见。
“将军，我不能，我不能处理这件事，因为法律比我更强而有力，”国王说，把脚踏进了马镫。将军十分恭敬地低下头。国王骑上马。在街上奔驰起来。罗斯托夫得意忘形，和人群一起跟在他后面跑。
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