BLEAK HILLS the estate of Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky, was sixty versts from Smolensk, a little to the rear of it, and three versts from the main road to Moscow.
The same evening on which the old prince gave Alpatitch his instructions, Dessalle asked for a few words with Princess Marya, and told her that since the prince was not quite well and was taking no steps to secure his own safety, though from Prince Andrey's letter it was plain that to stay on at Bleak Hills was not free from danger, he respectfully advised her to write herself, and send by Alpatitch a letter to the governor at Smolensk, and to ask him to let her know the position of affairs and the degree of danger they were running at Bleak Hills. Dessalle wrote the letter to the governor for Princess Marya and she signed it, and the letter was given to Alpatitch with instructions to give it to the governor, and in case there was danger, to come back as quickly as possible.
When he had received all his orders, Alpatitch put on his white beaver hat — a gift from the prince — and carrying a stick in his hand, like the prince, went out, accompanied by all his household, to get into the leather gig harnessed to three sleek, roan horses.
The bells were tied up and stuffed with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bleak Hills to drive with bells. But Alpatitch loved to have bells ringing when he went a long journey. All Alpatitch's satellites, the counting-house clerk, the servants' cook and the head cook, two old women, a foot-boy, a coachman, and various other servants saw him off.
His daughter put chintz-covered, down pillows under him and behind his back. His old sister-in-law slyly popped in a kerchief full of things. One of the coachmen helped him to get in.
“There, there, women's fuss! Women folk, women folk!” said Alpatitch, puffing and talking rapidly, just as the old prince used to talk. He sat down in the gig, giving the counting-house clerk his last directions about the work to be done in the fields; and then dropping his imitation of the prince, Alpatitch took his hat off his bald head and crossed himself three times.
“If there's anything … you turn back, Yakov Alpatitch; for Christ's sake, think of us,” his wife called to him, alluding to the rumours of war and of the enemy near.
“Ah, these women and their fuss!” Alpatitch muttered to himself as he drove off, looking about him at the fields. He saw rye turning yellow, thick oats still green, and here and there patches still black, where they were only just beginning the second ploughing. Alpatitch drove on, admiring the crop of corn, singularly fine that season, staring at the rye fields, in some of which reaping was already beginning, meditating like a true husbandman on the sowing and the harvest, and wondering whether he had forgotten any of the prince's instructions. He stopped twice to feed his horses on the way, and towards the evening of the 4th of August reached the town.
All the way Alpatitch had met and overtaken waggons and troops, and as he drove into Smolensk he heard firing in the distance, but he scarcely heeded the sound. What struck him more than anything was that close to Smolensk he saw a splendid field of oats being mown down by some soldiers evidently for forage; there was a camp, too, pitched in the middle of it. This did make an impression upon Alpatitch, but he soon forgot it in thinking over his own affairs.
All the interests of Alpatitch's life had been for over thirty years bounded by the will of the prince, and he never stepped outside that limit. Anything that had nothing to do with carrying out the prince's orders had no interest, had in fact no existence for Alpatitch.
On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the 4th of August, Alpatitch put up where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years, at a tavern kept by a former house-porter, Ferapontov, beyond the Dnieper in the Gatchensky quarter. Twelve years before, Ferapontov had profited by Alpatitch's good offices to buy timber from the old prince, and had begun going into trade; and by now he had a house, an inn and a corn-dealer's shop in the town. Ferapontov was a stout, dark, ruddy peasant of forty, with thick lips, a thick, knobby nose, similar knobby bumps over his black, knitted brows, and a round belly.
He was standing in his print shirt and his waistcoat in front of his shop, which looked into the street. He saw Alpatitch, and went up to him.
“You're kindly welcome, Yakov Alpatitch. Folk are going out of the town, while you come into it,” said he.
“How's that? Out of town?” said Alpatitch.
“To be sure, I always say folks are fools. Always frightened of the French.”
“Women's nonsense, women's nonsense!” replied Alpatitch.
“That's just what I think, Yakov Alpatitch. I say there's a notice put up that they won't let them come in, so to be sure that's right. But the peasants are asking as much as three roubles for a cart and horse—they've no conscience!”
Yakov Alpatitch heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar, and for hay for his horses; and after drinking tea lay down to sleep.
All night long the troops were moving along the street by the tavern. Next day Alpatitch put on a tunic, which he kept for wearing in town, and went out to execute his commissions. It was a sunny morning, and by eight o'clock it was hot. “A precious day for the harvest,” as Alpatitch thought. From early morning firing could be heard from beyond the town.
At eight o'clock the boom of cannon mingled with the rattle of musketry. The streets were thronged with people, hurrying about, and also with soldiers, but drivers plied for hire, the shopkeepers stood at their shops, and services were being held in the churches just as usual. Alpatitch went to the shops, to the government offices, to the post and to the governor's. Everywhere that he went every one was talking of the war, and of the enemy who was attacking the town. All were asking one another what was to be done, and trying to calm each other's fears.
At the governor's house, Alpatitch found a great number of people, and saw Cossacks, and a travelling carriage belonging to the governor at the entrance. On the steps Yakov Alpatitch met two gentlemen, one of whom he knew. This gentleman, a former police-captain, was speaking with great heat.
“Well, this is no jesting matter,” he said. “Good luck for him who has only himself to think of. It's bad enough for one alone, but when one has a family of thirteen and a whole property.…Things have come to such a pass that we shall all be ruined; what's one to say of the government after that?…Ugh, I'd hang the brigands.…”
“Come, come, hush!” said the other.
“What do I care! let him hear! Why, we're not dogs!” said the former police-captain, and looking round, he caught sight of Alpatitch.
“Ah, Yakov Alpatitch, how do you come here?”
“By command of his excellency to his honour the governor,” answered Alpatitch, lifting his head proudly and putting his hand into his bosom, as he always did when he mentioned the old prince.…“His honour was pleased to bid me inquire into the position of affairs,” he said.
“Well, you may as well know then,” cried the gentleman; “they have brought matters to such a pass that there are no carts to be got, nothing!…That's it again, do you hear?” he said, pointing in the direction from which the sounds of firing came.
“They have brought us all to ruin…the brigands!” he declared again, and he went down the steps.
Alpatitch shook his head and went up. The waiting-room was full of merchants, women, and clerks, looking dumbly at one another. The door of the governor's room opened, all of them got up and made a forward movement. A clerk ran out of the room, said something to a merchant, called a stout official with a cross on his neck to follow him, and vanished again, obviously trying to avoid all the looks and the questions addressed to him. Alpatitch moved forward, and the next time the same clerk emerged, he put his hand into his buttoned coat, and addressed him, handing him the two letters.
“To his honour the Baron Ash from the general-in-chief Prince Bolkonsky,” he boomed out with so much pomposity and significance that the clerk turned to him and took the letters. A few minutes afterwards Alpatitch was shown into the presence of the governor, who said to him hurriedly, “Inform the prince and the princess that I knew nothing about it. I acted on the highest instructions—here.…”
He gave Alpatitch a document.
“Still, as the prince is not well my advice to him is to go to Moscow. I'm setting off myself immediately. Tell them…”But the governor did not finish; a dusty and perspiring officer ran into the room and began saying something in French. A look of horror came into the governor's face.
“You can go,” he said, nodding to Alpatitch, and he put some questions to the officer. Eager, panic-stricken, helpless glances were turned upon Alpatitch when he came out of the governor's room. Alpatitch could not help listening now to firing, which seemed to come closer and to be getting hotter, as he hurried back to the inn. The document the governor had given to Alpatitch ran as follows:
“I guarantee that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger, and it is improbable that it should be threatened in any way. I myself from one side, and Prince Bagration from the other, will effect a junction before Smolensk on the 22nd instant, and both armies will proceed with their joint forces to defend their compatriots of the province under your government, till their efforts beat back the enemies of our country, or till their gallant ranks are cut down to the last warrior. You will see from this that you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, as they are defended by two such valiant armies and can be confident of their victory.
(“By order of Barclay de Tolly to the civil governor of Smolensk. Baron Ash. 1812.”)
Crowds of people were moving uneasily about the streets. Waggons, loaded up with household crockery, chairs, and cupboards, were constantly emerging from the gates of houses, and moving along the streets. Carts were standing at the entrance of the house next to Ferapontov's, and women were wailing and exchanging good-byes. The yard dog was frisking about the horses, barking.
Alpatitch's step was more hurried than usual as he entered the yard, and went straight under the shed to his horses and cart. The coachman was asleep; he waked him up, told him to put the horses in, and went into the outer room of the house. In the private room of the family, he heard the wailing of children, the heartrending sobs of a woman, and the furious, husky shouting of Ferapontov. The cook came fluttering into the outer room like a frightened hen, just as Alpatitch walked in.
“He's beating her to death—beating the mistress!…He's beaten her so, thrashed her so!…”
“What for?” asked Alpatitch.
“She kept begging to go away. A woman's way! Take me away, says she; don't bring me to ruin with all my little children; folks are all gone, says she, what are we about? So he fell to beating her…beating and thrashing her!”
Alpatitch nodded his head, apparently in approval at those words; and not caring to hear more he went towards the door on the opposite side leading to the room in which his purchases had been left.
“Wretch, villain,” screamed a thin, pale woman, bursting out at that moment with a child in her arms and her kerchief torn off her head. She ran down the steps into the yard. Ferapontov was going after her, but seeing Alpatitch, he pulled down his waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned and followed Alpatitch into the room.
“Do you want to be getting off already?” he asked. Without answering the question or looking round at him, Alpatitch collected his purchases and asked how much he owed him.
“We'll reckon up! Been at the governor's, eh?” asked Ferapontov. “What did you hear?”
Alpatitch replied that the governor had told him nothing definite.
“How are we to pack up and go with our business?” said Ferapontov. “Seven roubles to pay for cartage to Dorogobuzh. What I say is: they have no conscience!” said he. “Selivanov, he did a good turn on Friday, sold flour to the army for nine roubles the sack. What do you say to some tea?” he added. While the horses were being harnessed, Alpatitch and Ferapontov drank tea and discussed the price of corn, the crops, and the favourable weather for the harvest.
“It's getting quieter though,” said Ferapontov, getting up after drinking three cups of tea. “I suppose, our side has got the best of it. It's been said they won't let them in. So we're in force it seems.…The other day they were saying Matvey Ivanitch Platov drove them into the river Marina: eighteen thousand of them he drowned in one day.”
Alpatitch gathered up his purchases, handed them to the coachman, and settled his accounts with Ferapontov. There was the sound of wheels and hoofs and the ringing of bells as the gig drove out of the gates.
It was by now long past midday, half the street lay in shadow, while half was in brilliant sunshine. Alpatitch glanced out of the window and went to the door. All of a sudden there came a strange sound of a faraway hiss and thump, followed by the boom of cannons, mingling into a dim roar that set the windows rattling.
Alpatitch went out into the street; two men were running along the street towards the bridge. From different sides came the hiss and thud of cannon balls and the bursting of grenades, as they fell in the town. But these sounds were almost unheard, and the inhabitants scarcely noticed them, in comparison with the boom of the cannons they heard beyond the town. It was the bombardment, which Napoleon had ordered to be opened upon the town at four o'clock from one hundred and thirty cannons. The people did not at first grasp the meaning of this bombardment.
The sounds of the dropping grenades and cannon balls at first only excited the curiosity of the people. Ferapontov's wife, who had till then been wailing in the shed, ceased, and with the baby in her arms went out to the gate, staring in silence at the people, and listening to the sounds.
The cook and shopman came out to the gate. All of them were trying with eager curiosity to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over their heads. Several persons came round the corner in eager conversation.
“What force!” one was saying; “roof and ceiling were smashed up to splinters.”
“Like a pig routing into the earth, it went!” said another.
“Isn't it first-rate? Wakes one up!” he said laughing.
“It's as well you skipped away or it would have flattened you out.”
Others joined this group. They stopped and described how a cannon ball had dropped on a house close to them. Meanwhile other projectiles—now a cannon ball, with rapid, ominous hiss, and now a grenade with a pleasant whistle—flew incessantly over the people's heads: but not one fell close, all of them flew over. Alpatitch got into his gig. Ferapontov was standing at the gate.
“Will you never have done gaping!” he shouted to the cook, who in her red petticoat, with her sleeves tucked up and her bare elbows swinging, had stepped to the corner to listen to what was being said.
“A wonder it is!” she was saying, but hearing her master's voice, she came back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.
Again something hissed, but very close this time, like a bird swooping down; there was a flash of fire in the middle of the street, the sound of a shot, and the street was filled with smoke.
“Scoundrel, what are you about?” shouted Ferapontov, running up to the cook.
At the same instant there rose a piteous wailing from the women; the baby set up a terrified howling, and the people crowded with pale faces round the cook. Above them all rose out of the crowd the moans and cries of the cook.
“O-o-oy, good kind souls, blessed friends! don't let me die! Good kind souls!…”
Five minutes later no one was left in the street. The cook, with her leg broken by the bursting grenade, had been carried into the kitchen. Alpatitch, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the porter were sitting in the cellar listening. The thunder of the cannon, the hiss of the balls, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which rose above all the noise, never ceased for an instant. Ferapontov's wife alternately dandled and soothed her baby, and asked in a frightened whisper of every one who came into the cellar where was her husband, who had remained in the street. The shopman told her the master had gone with the crowd to the cathedral, where they were raising on high the wonder-working, holy picture of Smolensk.
Towards dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatitch came out of the cellar and stood in the doorway.
The clear evening sky was all overcast with smoke. And a new crescent moon looked strange, shining high up in the sky, through that smoke. After the terrible thunder of the cannons had ceased, a hush seemed to hang over the town, broken only by the footsteps, which seemed all over the town, the sound of groans and distant shouts, and the crackle of fires. The cook's moans had ceased now. On two sides black clouds of smoke from fires rose up and drifted away. Soldiers in different uniforms walked and ran about the streets in different directions, not in ranks, but like ants out of a disturbed ant heap. Several of them ran in Ferapontov's yard before Alpatitch's eyes. He went out to the gate. A regiment, crowded and hurrying, blocked up the street, going back.
“The town's surrendered; get away, get away,” said an officer noticing his figure; and turning immediately to the soldiers, he shouted, “I'll teach you to run through the yards!”
Alpatitch went back to the house, and calling the coachman told him to set off. Alpatitch and the coachman were followed out by all the household of Ferapontov. When they saw the smoke and even the flames of burning houses, which began to be visible now in the dusk, the women, who had been silent till then, broke into a sudden wail, as they gazed at the fires. As though seconding them, similar wails rose up in other parts of the street. Alpatitch and the coachman with trembling hands pulled out the tangled reins and the traces of the horses under the shed.
As Alpatitch was driving out of the gate, he saw about a dozen soldiers in loud conversation in Ferapontov's open shop. They were filling their bags and knapsacks with wheaten flour and sunflower seeds. At that moment Ferapontov returned and went into the shop. On seeing the soldiers, he was about to shout at them, but all at once he stopped short, and clutching at his hair broke into a sobbing laugh.
“Carry it all away, lads! Don't leave it for the devils,” he shouted, snatching up the sacks himself and pitching them into the street. Some of the soldiers ran away in a fright, others went on filling up their bags. Seeing Alpatitch, Ferapontov turned to him.
“It's all over with Russia!” he shouted. “Alpatitch! it's all over! I'll set fire to it myself. It's over…”Ferapontov ran into the house.
An unbroken stream of soldiers was blocking up the whole street, so that Alpatitch could not pass and was obliged to wait. Ferapontov's wife and children were sitting in a cart too, waiting till it was possible to start.
It was by now quite dark. There were stars in the sky, and from time to time the new moon shone through the veil of smoke. Alpatitch's and his hostess's vehicles moved slowly along in the rows of soldiers and of other conveyances, and on the slope down to the Dnieper they had to halt altogether. In a lane not far from the cross-roads where the traffic had come to a full stop, there were shops and a house on fire. The fire was by now burning down. The flame died down and was lost in black smoke, then flared up suddenly, lighting up with strange distinctness the faces of the crowd at the cross-roads. Black figures were flitting about before the fire, and talk and shouts could be heard above the unceasing crackling of the flames. Alpatitch, seeing that it would be some time before his gig could move forward, got out and went back to the lane to look at the fire. Soldiers were scurrying to and fro before the fire; and Alpatitch saw two soldiers with a man in a frieze coat dragging burning beams from the fire across the street to a house near, while others carried armfuls of hay.
Alpatitch joined a great crowd of people standing before a high corn granary in full blaze. The walls were all in flames; the back wall had fallen in; the plank roof was breaking down, and the beams were glowing. The crowd were evidently watching for the moment when the roof would fall in. Alpatitch too waited to see it.
“Alpatitch!” the old man suddenly heard a familiar voice calling to him.
“Mercy on us, your excellency,” answered Alpatitch, instantly recognising the voice of his young master.
Prince Andrey, wearing a cape, and mounted on a black horse, was in the crowd, and looking at Alpatitch.
“How did you come here?” he asked.
“Your…your excellency!” Alpatitch articulated, and he broke into sobs.…“Your, your…is it all over with us, really? Master…”
“How is it you are here?” repeated Prince Andrey. The flames flared up at that instant, and Alpatitch saw in the bright light his young master's pale and worn face. Alpatitch told him how he had been sent to the town and had difficulty in getting away.
“What do you say, your excellency, is it all over with us?” he asked again.
Prince Andrey, making no reply, took out his note-book, and raising his knee, scribbled in pencil on a leaf he had torn out. He wrote to his sister:
“Smolensk has surrendered,” he wrote. “Bleak Hills will be occupied by the enemy within a week. Set off at once for Moscow. Let me know at once when you start; send a messenger to Usvyazh.”
Scribbling these words, and giving Alpatitch the paper, he gave him further directions about sending off the old prince, the princess and his son with his tutor, and how and where to let him hear, as soon as they had gone. Before he had finished giving those instructions, a staff officer, followed by his suite, galloped up to him.
“You a colonel,” shouted the staff officer, in a voice Prince Andrey knew speaking with a German accent. “Houses are being set on fire in your presence and you stand still! What's the meaning of it? You will answer for it,” shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant of the chief officer of the staff of the commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a very agreeable and prominent position, so Berg said.
Prince Andrey stared at him, and without making any reply went on addressing Alpatitch.
“Tell them then that I shall wait for an answer till the 10th, and if I don't receive news by the 10th, that they have all gone away, I shall be obliged to throw up everything and go myself to Bleak Hills.”
“Prince,” said Berg, recognising Prince Andrey, “I only speak because it's my duty to carry out my instructions, because I always do exactly carry out…You must please excuse me,” Berg tried to apologise.
There was a crash in the fire. The flames subsided for an instant; black clouds of smoke rolled under the roof. There was another fearful crash, and the falling of some enormous weight.
“Ooo-roo!” the crowd yelled, as the ceiling of the granary fell in, and a smell of baked cakes rose from the burning wheat. The flames flared up again, and lighted up the delighted and careworn faces of the crowd around it.
The man in the frieze coat, brandishing his arms in the air, was shouting:
“First-rate! Now she's started! First-rate, lads!…” “That's the owner himself,” murmured voices.
“So you tell them everything I have told you,” said Prince Andrey, addressing Alpatitch. And without bestowing a word on Berg, who stood mute beside him, he put spurs to his horse and rode down the lane.
尼古拉·安德烈伊奇·博尔孔斯基公爵的庄园、童山，在斯摩棱斯克背后六十俄里，离莫斯科大道三俄里。
就在公爵给阿尔帕特奇作指示的那天晚上，德萨尔求见玛丽亚公爵小姐，告诉她说，鉴于公爵健康欠佳，而且对自己的安全也未采取任何措施，而据安德烈公爵的来信看，显然留在童山是不安全的，因此他恭敬地劝她亲自给总督写一封信，让阿尔帕特奇带到斯摩棱斯克，求他把战局和童山所受到的威胁程度告诉她。德萨尔替玛丽亚公爵小姐代笔写了一封信给总督的信，由她签了名，才把这封信交给阿尔帕特奇，命令他呈送总督。如遇到危险，就尽快赶回来。
阿尔帕特奇接到指示后，就戴上白绒毛帽子（公爵的礼物），像公爵似的拿着手杖，由家里的人伴送，一出门就坐上了驾三匹肥壮的、毛色黄褐而黑鬃的马拉的皮篷马车。
大铃铛包了起来，小铃铛也塞满了纸，因为公爵不让人在童山坐带铃铛的马车。但是阿尔帕特奇却喜欢在出远门时乘坐的车带着大小的铃铛。阿尔帕特奇的“朝臣”们——行政长官，事务员，厨娘（一黑一白的两个老太太），哥萨克小孩，马车夫以及各种农奴；都出来为他送行。
他的女儿把印花色彩的鸭绒坐垫放在他背靠背后面和身下，老姨子还偷偷地塞给他一小包东西。然后才由一个马车夫搀扶着他上车。
“嘿，老娘儿们全出动！老娘儿们，老娘儿们！”阿尔帕特奇正像老公爵，气喘吁吁地、急促地说了才坐上车去。同时对行政长官作了有关事务性的最后指示。这次他不再照公爵那样了，从秃头上取下帽子，画了三次十字。
“您，如果有什么……您就回来吧，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇；看在基督的面上，可怜可怜我们吧！”他的妻子向他叫喊道，暗示他有关战争和敌人的流言。
“老娘儿们，老娘儿们，老娘儿们全出动！”阿尔帕特奇自言自语说罢，上路后，他环顾着四周的田野，有的地方黑麦已经黄熟，有的地方是青枝绿叶茂密的燕麦，有的地方还是刚刚开始再耕的黑土。阿尔帕特奇坐在车上欣赏着当年春播作物少有的好收成，仔细瞧了瞧黑麦田的地块，有几处已经开始收割，于是他用心盘算着播和收获，然后又想到有没有忘记公爵的什么吩咐。
路上喂过两次马，八月四日傍晚，阿尔帕特奇到了城里。
在途中，阿尔帕特奇遇到并越过了辎重车和军队。他快到斯摩棱斯克时，听到了远处的枪声，但枪声并没有使他吃惊。使他最吃惊的是他临近斯摩棱斯克时，看见有些士兵正在割一片长势很好的燕麦，显然是用来喂马的。而燕麦地里还驻着一个兵营；这种情况使阿尔帕特奇大吃一惊；但是他一心想着自己的事，很快就把它忘掉了。
阿尔帕特奇三十多年的一切生活兴趣，只局限于公爵的心愿范围内，他从来没有超越出这个范围。凡是与执行公爵的命令无关的事，他不仅不感兴趣，而且对阿尔帕特奇来说是不存在的。
八月四日傍晚，阿尔帕特奇到达斯摩棱斯克，住宿在德聂伯河对岸的加钦斯克郊区，费拉蓬托夫的旅店里，三十年来他在这里住习惯了。十二年前，费拉蓬托夫沾了阿尔帕特奇的光，从公爵手里买下了一片小树林，开始做生意，如今在省城里已经有了一所房子，一家旅店和一爿面粉店。费拉蓬托夫是一个身体肥胖、面色黑红，四十来岁的庄稼汉，他嘴唇粗厚，鼻子俨如一颗粗大的肉瘤，皱起的浓眉上方也长着有同样粗大的两个肉瘤，此外还有一个凸起的大肚子。
身穿背心和印花衬衫的费拉蓬托夫，站在面临大街的面粉店的傍边，他看见了阿尔帕特奇，便向他走过去。
“欢迎，欢迎，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇！人家都出城，你倒进城来。”店主说。
“为什么要出城？”阿尔帕特奇问道。
“我也说嘛，老百姓太愚蠢！还不是怕法国人呗！”
“老娘儿们的见识，老娘儿们的见识！”阿尔帕特奇说。
“我也是这么推想的，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇。我说，有了命令不让他们进来，那就是说，这是对的。但是庄稼汉要三个卢布的车费，因为他们真是天良丧尽！”
雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇漫不经心地听着。他要了一壶茶和喂马的干草，然后喝足了茶，便躺下睡觉了。
通宵达旦，军队都在街上不停地从旅店傍边走过。第二天，阿尔帕特奇穿上只有在城里才穿的坎肩，出门去办事。早晨阳光灿烂，八点钟就很热了。阿尔帕特奇认为，是收割庄稼的好日子。从早晨起就听得见城外的枪声。
从早晨八点开始，步枪声中夹杂着大炮的轰鸣，街上有许多不知往何处急急忙忙走着的行人，也还有士兵，但仍和平时一样，马车来来往往，商人站在店铺里，教堂里做礼拜。阿尔帕特奇走遍商店、政府机关和邮局，并看望了总督。在政府机关、商店和邮局里，大家都在谈论军队，谈论已经开始攻城的敌人；大家都在互相探询应该怎么办，大家都在竭力互相安慰安慰。
阿尔帕特奇在总督住它的前边发现有许多人，哥萨克士兵和总督的一辆旅行马车。雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇在台阶上遇到两个贵族绅士，其中有一个他认识。他认识的那个贵族绅士过去当过县警察局长，正在激动地说：
“要知道，这不是闹着玩的！”他说，“单独一个人谁都好办。一个人倒霉一人当，可是一家十三口人，还有全部的财产……弄得家破人亡，这算个什么长官呀？……哎，就该绞死这帮强盗……”
“行啦！得啦！”另一位贵族绅士说。
“我犯什么法，让他听见好了！我们又不是狗。”前任警察局长说罢，便回头看了一下，看见了阿尔帕特奇。
“啊，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇，你来干什么？”
“奉公爵大人之命，前来拜见总督先生。”阿尔帕特奇回答后，才傲慢地抬起头来，把一只手放在怀里，每当他提起公爵时，总是摆出这个模样……“派我来打听一下战役的局势。”他说。
“是的，你就打听去吧！”在场的一位地主大声说，“他们弄得一辆大车也没有了，甚至什么东西也没有了！……这不是，你听见了吗？”他指着传来枪声的方向说。
“弄得大家全都给毁了……狗强盗！”他又说了几句，然后才走下台阶。
阿尔帕特奇摇了摇头，便上楼去了。在接待室里有商人、妇女、官吏，他们都相视沉默不语。办公室的门开了，大家都站起来向前移动。从门里跑出来一个官吏，同一位商人说了几句话，叫了一个脖子上挂着十字架的胖官吏跟他来，又进到门里去了。显然是避免大家投向地的目光和向他提出问题。阿尔帕特奇向前移动了一下，在那位官吏再走出来时，他把一只手插进扣着的常礼服的胸襟里，向官吏打了招呼，并递给他两封信。
“这是博尔孔斯基公爵上将递交给阿什男爵先生的信。”他这样郑重而又意味深长地宣告，以致那位官吏便转向他，把信接过去。过了几分钟，总督就接见了阿尔帕特奇，并匆匆忙忙地对他说。
“请向公爵和公爵小姐禀报，就说我什么都不知道，因为我是遵照最高当局的命令行动的——你看就是……”
接着他递给阿尔帕特奇一份公文。
“不过，因为公爵健康欠佳，我劝他去莫斯科。我也马上就要走了。请禀告……”但是总督话还没有说完，一个灰尘垢面，浑身大汗的军官跑进门来，开始用法语说了几句不知什么话。总督的脸上现出惊骇万分的神情。
“去吧！”他向阿尔帕特奇点了点头说话后，又开始向那位军官询问什么。当他走出总督办公室的时候，那些渴求、惊慌，孤立无援的目光都投到阿尔帕特奇的身上。阿尔帕特奇不由自主地谛听着这时离得很近的、仍然是猛烈的枪炮声，他急忙赶回旅店。总督给阿尔帕特奇的公文如下：
“我向您保证，斯摩棱斯克城现在还没有面临丝毫的危险，可能受到威胁也令人难于置信。我从一方面，巴格拉季翁公爵从另一方面于二十二日在斯摩棱斯前面会师，从而两军联合兵力共同保卫贵省的同胞，直到我们努力把祖国的敌人击退，或者我们英勇的队伍一直战斗到最后一个人。由此可见，您有充分的权力安慰斯摩棱斯克的市民。因为受到如此英勇军队保卫的人，可以相信他们会获得胜利。”（巴克莱·德·托利给斯摩棱斯克总督阿什男爵的训令。一八一二年）。
人们神情不安地在街上走来走去。
满载着家用食具，坐椅和柜子的大车，不断地从住宅的大门里开出来，沿街行驶。在费拉蓬托夫家隔壁的门前，停着几辆马车，妇女们一面互道再见，一面嚎哭着说话。一条看家狗在驾上马拉的马车前叫着转来转去。
阿尔帕特奇迈着比平时更为匆忙的步伐向旅店走进去，直接走到停放他的车马棚那里。车夫睡着了，他叫醒他，吩咐套马，然后走进穿堂。在店主的正房里听见有个孩子的哭声，一个妇女撕肝裂肺的号啕声，费拉蓬托夫嘶哑的愤怒的尖叫声。这时阿尔帕特奇刚一进门来，厨娘像一只受惊的母鸡一样，正在穿堂里乱窜。
“打死人了，——老板娘给打死了！……又打，又拖啊！
……”
“为了什么？”阿尔帕特奇问。
“她央求离开这里。妇道人家嘛！她说；你带我走吧！不要让我和小孩子们一起都毁掉了吧；人家都走光了，她又说，咱们干吗不走？于是就开始打她了。而且又打；又拖呀！”
阿尔帕特奇听到这番话后，好像是赞同地点了点头，但又不想再听下去，便向对面店主正房的门口走去，因为他买的东西放在这里。
“你这个恶棍，凶手！”这时，有个瘦削、脸色苍白的女人，手中抱着一个孩子，头巾从头上扯了下来，她一面叫喊道，一面从门里冲出来，下了台阶便向院子里跑去，费拉蓬托夫跟着追她，一见到阿尔帕特奇，他便理了理背心和头发，打了个呵欠，就尾随阿尔帕特奇进屋去了。
“难道你就想走了吗？”他问。
阿尔帕特奇既不答话，也未回头看一下店主，只顾查看自己买好的东西，问店主应付多少房钱。
“算一下吧！怎么样，到总督那里去了吗？”费拉蓬托夫问，“有什么决定吗？”
阿尔帕特奇回答说，总督根本没对他说什么。
“干我们这一行的，难道能搬走吗？”费拉蓬托夫说。“到多罗戈布日租辆大车得付七个卢布。所以我说，他们丧尽天良！”他说。
“谢利瓦诺夫星期四投了个机，面粉卖给军队，九卢布一袋，怎么样，您要喝茶吗？”他补充说。套马的时候，阿尔帕特奇和费拉蓬托夫一同喝茶，谈论粮价、收成和适于收割的好天气。
“到底还是停下来了！”费拉蓬托夫喝完了三杯茶，站起来说，“一定是我们的军队打胜了。已经说了，不让他们进来嘛。这就是说，我们有能力……前些日子，据说马特维·伊万内奇·普拉托夫①把他们赶到了马里纳河里，一天淹死一万八千左右的人，难道不是！”
①马·伊·普拉托夫（1761～1818），俄国骑兵将领，一八一二年在与法军作战中战功卓著，是当时顿河哥萨克人民军的发起者和组织者。
阿尔帕特奇收拾好买的东西，交给进房来的车夫，同店主结清了账。一辆轻便马车驶出大门，传来车轮、马蹄和小铃铛的声音。
早就过了晌午了，街的一半是阴影，街的另一边则被太阳照得明亮亮的。阿尔帕特奇向窗外望了一眼，便向门口走去。突然听见有叫人觉得奇怪地、远方传来的呼啸声和碰撞声，随后又传来了一阵震动玻璃窗的炮弹的隆隆声。
阿尔帕特奇走到街上，街上有两个人向大桥跑去。四面八方传来了炮弹的嗖嗖声、轰隆声以及落在城内的榴弹爆炸声。但是这些声音和城外的枪炮声比起来，几乎是听不见的，不为市民所注意的。这是下午四点钟拿破仑下令，用一百三十尊大炮向这座城市轰击。起初，老百姓还不理解这次轰击的意义。
榴弹和炮弹降落的声音，开始只引起了人们的好奇心。费拉蓬托夫的妻子在板棚里不停地哭到现在，她也不作声了，抱着孩子向大门口走去，默默地望着行人，倾听着枪炮声。
厨娘和一个伙计也来到大门口。大家都怀着愉快的好奇心情，竭力看一看从他们头上飞过去的炮弹。从街的拐角处过来几个人，他们正在兴奋地谈论着什么。
“这真威力大！”有一个人说，“把房顶和天花板都打得碎片纷飞。”
“像猪拱土一样。”另一个人说。
“多么带劲！好大的威力！”他笑着说。
“好在你跳开了，否则会把你炸得稀巴烂！”
人们都朝这两个人看着。他们停了下来，讲到有一发炮弹正落在他们身边的房屋上的情景。这时，又有一些炮弹不停地从人们头上飞过，时而发出迅速沉闷的啸声，这是一种圆形炮弹，时而听到悦耳的呼啸，这是一种榴弹；但是没有一发炮弹落在附近，都飞过去了。阿尔帕特奇坐上皮篷马车走了，店主仍站在门前。
“没有什么可看的！”他对厨娘喊道。那个厨娘穿着红裙子，卷起袖子，摇摆着两只裸露的胳膊肘，走到角落里，听他们说话。
“这真奇怪！”她说。但是她听到主人的声音，便放下撩起的裙子，走回来了。
又响起了嗖嗖的呼啸声，但这一次离得很近，好像飞鸟俯冲一样，只见街心火光一闪，不知什么东西爆炸开了，顿时街上弥漫着硝烟。
“混蛋，你这是干什么？”店主喊叫一声，便向厨娘跑去。
就在这一瞬间，四面八方的妇女都悲惨地呼号，一个小孩也惊恐地哭起来，人们面色苍白，默默地群集在厨娘的周围。在这一人群之中，厨娘的呻吟声和说话声听起来至今清晰。
“唉哟，我的好人啊！我的亲人啊！别让我死啊！我的好人啊！……”
五分钟后，街上空无一人。榴弹碎片打伤了厨娘的大腿，有人把她抬到厨房里。阿尔帕特奇、他的车夫、费拉蓬托夫的妻子和几个孩子们，还有看门的都坐在地窖里听候外面的动静。隆隆的炮声、炮弹的呼啸声和厨娘比其他人的声音都高的、可怜的哀号声，一刻也没有停止过。旅店老板娘时而摇晃哄着孩子，时而用可怜的低语问所有进地窖的人，她的留在街上的丈夫在哪里。进地窖的伙计告诉她说，店主和其他人都到大教堂那里抬斯摩棱斯克显灵的圣像去了。
接近黄昏时，炮弹声开始平静下来。阿尔帕特奇从地窖里走出来，站在门口边。开初明朗的夜空还弥漫着烟雾，然后一轮新月高悬中天，透过烟雾奇异地闪光。在原先可怕的炮声停止后，城市的上空显得寂静了，好像只有满城的脚步声，呻吟声，遥远的喊叫声和着大的毕剥声打破了沉寂。厨娘的呻吟声现在也静下来了。有两处、团团的黑烟腾空而起，扩散开来。穿着各种制服的士兵，好像是从捣毁了的蚁巢中逃出来的蚂蚁一样，不成队列地朝着不同的方向，走的走，跑的跑。阿尔帕特奇亲眼看见其中几个士兵向费拉蓬托夫的院子跑去。而他也走到大门口去了。有一个团前拥后挤地匆忙往后撤退，把街道都堵塞起来了。
“这个城市放弃了，走吧，走吧！”那个看见他的身影的军官向他说，立刻又转身喝开那些士兵：
“我让你们向人家院子里跑去的！”他大喝一声。
阿尔帕特奇回到屋里，叫了车夫，吩咐他赶车上路。费拉蓬托夫全家人都跟着阿尔帕特奇和车夫走出门来。一直默不作声的妇女们，一看见滚滚的浓烟，特别是看见这时在暮色中已经很明显的大焰，就望着大火的地方哭起来了。街道别的角落里也传来了同样的哭声，似乎同她们遥相呼应。阿尔帕特奇和车夫在屋檐下用颤抖的双手整理着缠结的缠绳和挽索。
阿尔帕特奇从大门出来坐上车走时，看到费拉蓬托夫敞开的店里有十来个士兵，一面大声说话，一面把面粉和葵花子装进口袋和背包。那时，费拉蓬托夫从街上回来，走进店里。他看见士兵之后，本想要喊叫一声什么，可他突然停了下来，抓住头发，又哭又哈哈大笑起来。
“把东西都拿走吧，弟兄们！不要留给魔鬼！”他喊叫道，并亲自搬了几袋面粉扔到街上。有的士兵吓跑了，有的士兵还在装。费拉蓬托夫看见了阿尔帕特奇，便转身对他说。
“完了！俄罗斯！”他大喊大叫。“阿尔帕特奇！完了！我要亲自来放火。完了……”费拉蓬托夫跑进院子里去了。
士兵川流不息地在街上走过，堵塞了整个街道，因此阿尔帕特奇过不去，一定得等着。费拉蓬托夫的妻子带着孩子们也坐在一辆大车上，等到通行时才过去。
已经完全是黑夜了。天空出现了星星，新月不时地从烟雾中闪现出来。在通往德聂伯河的斜坡上，阿尔帕特奇和店主妻子的车辆，在士兵和别的车辆中间缓缓地移动着，有时一定得停下来。离停车的十字路口不远的一条胡同里，一处住宅和几家店铺在着火，但火快要燃尽。有时火焰熄灭，消失在黑烟里，有时又忽然明亮地燃烧。极其清晰地照耀挤在十字路口的人的脸上。火场前边隐约有几个黑的人影，透过火焰不停的哔剥声，听得见人们的谈话声和喊叫声。阿尔帕特奇见他的车子一时过不去，就从车上下来，拐到胡同里去看火。士兵不断地在火旁前后乱窜，阿尔帕特奇看见两个士兵和一个穿厚呢子军大衣的人从火场里拖出一段燃着的圆木，另外几个人抱着干草到街的对面的院子里去。
阿尔帕特奇走到一大群人那里，他们站在一个全部燃烧得正旺的高大的仓库对面，墙都在火里，后墙倒塌了，木板房顶也塌陷了，椽子都在燃烧。显然，人群都在等待屋顶塌下来。阿尔帕特奇也在等这个时刻。
“阿尔帕特奇！”突然一个熟悉的声音在叫老人的名字。
“我的天啊，原来是公爵大人！”阿尔帕特奇回答说，他立刻就听出来是小公爵的声音。
安德烈公爵穿着外套，骑着一匹乌黑的马，正站在人群后边望着阿尔帕特奇。
“你怎么到这儿来了！”他问。
“公……公爵大人！”阿尔帕特奇说着说着说哭起来了……“公……公爵大人，我们完蛋了吗？我的上帝！……”
“你怎么到这儿来了！”安德烈公爵又问。
这时，火焰明亮地燃烧起来，照亮了阿尔帕特奇的小主人苍白而憔悴的脸。阿尔帕特奇讲了，他是怎样被派到这里，又好不容易才走了出来。
“怎么，公爵大人，我们真的完蛋了吗？”他又问。
安德烈公爵没有作回答，他掏出笔记本，抬起膝盖，在撕下的一页纸上用铅笔给他的妹妹写道：
“斯摩棱斯克要放弃了！一星期之后童山将被敌人所占领。你们立刻动身去莫斯科。马上告诉我，何时上路，并派一名信使去乌斯维亚日。”
他写完后，就把那张便笺交给阿尔帕特奇，还口头交待他，怎样照料公爵、公爵小姐、他的儿子和教师上路，怎样立刻回信并把信寄到哪里。他还未来得及说完这些指示，便有一个参谋长，带着侍从骑马向他奔驰而来。
“您是团长吗？”参谋长用安德烈公爵熟悉的德语口音喊道。“当着您的面烧房子，您却站着不动？这意味着什么？您要负责！”贝格叫嚷着，他现在是第一军步兵左翼司令官的副参谋长，正如贝格所说，这是一个显然很称心的美差。
安德烈公爵望了望他，没有答理，继续向阿尔帕特奇说：
“你告诉他说，我等回信等到十号，如果十号我还得不到他们启程的消息，我就要放弃一切，亲自到童山去走一趟。”
“公爵，我说这话，只因为我应该执行命令，”贝格认出安德烈公爵后说，“因为我一向是严格执行，……请您原谅我吧！”贝格替自己辩解说。
“火焰中哔剥响起来。后来火光又熄了一会儿；滚滚的浓烟从房顶下面不断冒出来。火焰中又有一声可怕的巨响，有个巨大的东西坍塌下来了。
“哎唷！”人们随着粮仓塌下来的天花板的响声吼叫起来，燃烧过的粮食从粮仓那里散发出面饼的香味。火焰又突然升起来，照亮了站在大场周围的人们兴奋、欢快而又精疲力尽的脸。
一个穿厚呢子军大衣的人举手叫喊道：
“好呀！来吧！弟兄们，好呀……。”
“这是本店的人！”异口同声地说。
“那，那么，”安德烈公爵问阿尔帕特奇说，“把我向你所说的一切都转告给他们。”但他一句话也没有回答那默默不语地站在他身旁的贝格，摸了一下马，便走到胡同里去了。
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