FROM SMOLENSK the troops continued to retreat. The enemy followed them. On the 10th of August the regiment of which Prince Andrey was in command was marching along the high-road past the avenue that led to Bleak Hills. The heat and drought had lasted more than three weeks. Every day curly clouds passed over the sky, rarely covering the sun; but towards evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in a glowing, red mist. But a heavy dew refreshed the earth at night. The wheat left in the fields was burnt up and dropping out of the ear. The marshes were dry. The cattle lowed from hunger, finding nothing to graze on in the sunbaked meadows. Only at night in the woods, as long as the dew lasted, it was cool. But on the road, on the high-road along which the troops marched, there was no coolness even at night, not even where the road passed through the woods. The dew was imperceptible on the sandy dust of the road, more than a foot deep. As soon as it was daylight, the soldiers began to move. The transports and artillery moved noiselessly, buried up to their axles, and the infantry sank to their ankles in the soft, stifling, burning dust, that never got cool even at night. The sandy dust clung to their legs and to the wheels, rose in a cloud over their heads, and got into the eyes and hair and nostrils and lungs of the men and beasts that moved along the road. The higher the sun rose, the higher rose the cloud of dust, and through the fine, burning dust the sun in the cloudless sky looked like a purple ball, at which one could gaze with undazzled eyes. There was no wind, and the men gasped for breath in the stagnant atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their mouths and noses. When they reached the villages, there was a rush for the wells. They fought over the water and drank it down to the mud.
Prince Andrey was in command of a regiment; and the management of the regiment, the welfare of his men, the necessity of receiving and giving orders occupied his mind. The burning and abandonment of Smolensk made an epoch in Prince Andrey's life. A new feeling of intense hatred of the enemy made him forget his own sorrow. He was devoted heart and soul to the interests of his regiment; he was careful of the welfare of his men and his officers, and cordial in his manner with them. They called him in the regiment “our prince,” were proud of him, and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only with his own men, with Timohin, and others like him, people quite new to him, belonging to a different world, people who could have no notion of his past. As soon as he was brought into contact with any of his old acquaintances, any of the staff officers, he bristled up again at once, and was vindictive, ironical, and contemptuous. Everything associated by memories with the past was repulsive to him, and so, in his relations with that old world, he confined himself to trying to do his duty, and not to be unfair.
Prince Andrey, in fact, saw everything in the darkest, gloomiest light, especially after Smolensk, which he considered could and should have been defended, had been abandoned, on the 6th of August, and his invalid father had been forced, as he supposed, to flee to Moscow, leaving Bleak Hills, the house that he had so loved, that he had designed and settled with his peasants, to be plundered. But in spite of that, thanks to his position, Prince Andrey had another subject to think of, quite apart from all general questions, his regiment. On the 10th of August, the column of which his regiment formed part reached the turning leading off to Bleak Hills. Two days before Prince Andrey had received the news that his father, his son, and his sister had gone away to Moscow. Though there was nothing for Prince Andrey to do at Bleak Hills, he decided, with characteristic desire to aggravate his own sufferings, that he must ride over there.
He ordered his horse to be saddled, and turned off from the main line of march towards his father's house, where he had been born and had spent his childhood. As he rode by the pond, where there always used to be dozens of peasant women gossiping, rinsing their linen, or beating it with washing bats, Prince Andrey noticed that there was no one by the pond, and that the platform where they used to stand had been torn away, and was floating sideways in the middle of the pond, half under water. Prince Andrey rode up to the keeper's lodge. There was no one to be seen at the stone gates and the door was open. The paths of the garden were already overgrown with weeds, and cattle and horses were straying about the English park. Prince Andrey rode up to the conservatory: the panes were smashed, and some of the trees in tubs were broken, others quite dried up. He called Taras, the gardener. No one answered. Going round the conservatory on the terrace, he saw that the paling-fence was all broken down, and branches of the plum-trees had been pulled off with the fruit. An old peasant, whom Prince Andrey used to see in his childhood at the gate, was sitting on the green garden seat plaiting bast shoes.
He was deaf, and did not hear Prince Andrey's approach. He was sitting on the seat on which the old prince liked to sit, and near him the bast was hanging on the branches of a broken and dried-up magnolia.
Prince Andrey rode up to the house. Several lime-trees in the old garden had been cut down; a piebald mare and a colt were among the rose-trees just before the house. The shutters were all up in the house, except on one open window downstairs. A servant lad caught sight of Prince Andrey and ran into the house.
Alpatitch had sent his family away, and was staying on alone at Bleak Hills. He was sitting indoors, reading the Lives of the Saints. On hearing that Prince Andrey had come, he ran out, spectacles on nose, buttoning himself up, hurried up to the prince, and without uttering a word, burst into tears, kissing his knee.
Then he turned away in anger at his own weakness, and began giving him an account of the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable had been moved to Bogutcharovo. Corn to the amount of a hundred measures had been carried away, but the hay, and the wheat—an extraordinary crop that season, so Alpatitch said—had been cut green and carried off by the troops. The peasants were ruined: some of them, too, had gone to Bogutcharovo; a small number remained. Prince Andrey, not heeding his words, asked, “When did my father and sister go?” meaning when had they set off for Moscow. Alpatitch, assuming he was asking about the removal to Bogutcharovo, answered that they had set off on the 7th, and began going off again into details about the crops, asking for instructions.
“Is it your honour's orders that I let the oats go on getting a receipt from the officers?” asked Alpatitch. “We have still six hundred measures left.”
“What am I to say to him?” Prince Andrey wondered, looking at the old man's bald head shining in the sun, and reading in his face the consciousness that he knew himself the untimeliness of those questions, and asked them only to stifle his own grief.
“Yes, let it go,” he said.
“If your excellency noticed any disorder in the garden,” said Alpatitch, “it could not be prevented; three regiments have been here and spent the night. The dragoons were the worst; I noted down the name and rank of the commanding officer to lodge a complaint.”
“Well, and what are you going to do? Shall you stay, if the enemy occupies the place?” Prince Andrey asked him.
Alpatitch turned his face towards Prince Andrey and looked at him; then all at once, with a solemn gesture, he lifted his hand upwards: “He is my protector, and His will be done!” he said. A group of peasants and house-serfs were coming across the meadow, uncovering their heads as they drew near Prince Andrey.
“Well, good-bye!” said Prince Andrey, bending over to Alpatitch. “Go away yourself; take what you can; and tell the peasants to set off for the Ryazan estate or the property near Moscow.”
Alpatitch hugged his leg and broke into sobs. Prince Andrey gently moved him away, and spurring his horse galloped down the garden walk.
On the terrace the old man was still sitting as before, as uninterested as a fly on some beloved dead face, knocking on the sole of the bast shoe. And two little girls came running from the plum-trees in the conservatories with their skirts full of plums. They ran almost against Prince Andrey, and seeing their young master, the elder one clutched her younger companion by the hand, with a panic-stricken face, and hid with her behind a birch-tree not stopping to pick up the green plums they had dropped.
Prince Andrey turned away from them in nervous haste, afraid of letting them notice that he had seen them. He was sorry to have frightened the pretty child. He was afraid to glance at her, but yet he felt an irresistible inclination to do so. A new soothing and consolatory feeling came upon him, as gazing at the little girls, he became aware of the existence of other human interests, utterly remote from him, and as legitimate as his own. Those little girls were evidently possessed by one passionate desire to carry off and devour those green plums without being caught, and Prince Andrey wished them success in their enterprise. He could not resist glancing at them once more. Fancying themselves already secure, they had darted out of their hiding-place, and piping something in their shrill, little voices, and holding up their skirts, they ran gaily and swiftly through the grass with their bare, sunburnt little feet.
Prince Andrey was somewhat refreshed by his ride outside the region of the dust of the high-road along which the troops were marching. But he rode back into the road not far from Bleak Hills, and overtook his regiment at the halting-place near the dike of a small pond. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. The sun, a red ball through the dust, baked and scorched his back intolerably in his black coat. The dust stood as immovable as ever over the buzzing, halting troops. There was not a breath of wind. As he rode towards the dike, Prince Andrey smelled the fresh, muddy smell of the pond. He longed to be in the water, however muddy it might be. He looked round at the pond, from which he heard shrieks and laughter. The small pond, thickly covered with green slime, was visibly half a yard higher and overflowing the dam, because it was full of white, naked human bodies, with brick-red hands and heads and necks, all plunging about in it. All that bare white human flesh was splashing about with shrieks and laughter, in the muddy pool, like carp floundering in a net. There was a ring of merriment in that splashing, and that was what made it peculiarly sad.
One fair-haired young soldier—Prince Andrey knew him—of the third company, with a strap round the calf of his leg, stepped back, crossing himself, to get a good run, and plunge into the water. Another swarthy and very towzle-headed sergeant up to his waist in the water, bending his fine, muscular figure, was snorting with enjoyment, as he poured the water over his head with his blackened hands. There was a sound of them slapping each other, and shrieks and cries.
On the banks, on the dike, in the pond, everywhere there was white, healthy, muscular flesh. Timohin, the officer with the red nose, was rubbing himself with a towel on the dike, and was abashed at seeing Prince Andrey, but made up his mind to address him.
“It's pleasant, really, your excellency; you should try it!” he said.
“It's dirty,” said Prince Andrey, grimacing.
“We will clear it out for you in a minute.” And undressed as he was, Timohin ran to clear the men out. “The prince wants to come.”
“What prince? Our prince?” cried voices, and all of them were in such haste to make way for him that Prince Andrey hardly had time to check them. He thought it would be better for him to have a bath in a barn. “Flesh, meat, chair à canon,” he thought, looking too at his own naked body and shuddering, not so much from cold as from the repulsion and horror, mysterious to himself, that he had felt at the sight of that immense multitude of naked bodies floundering in the muddy water.
On the 7th of August, Prince Bagration, at his halting-place at Mihalovka on the Smolensk road, had written a letter to Araktcheev. Though the letter was addressed to Araktcheev, he knew it would be read to the Tsar, and therefore he weighed every word, so far as he was capable of doing so.
“DEAR COUNT ALEXEY ANDREIVITCH,—I presume that the minister has already reported the abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is sad, it is pitiable, and the whole army is in despair at the most important place having been wantonly abandoned. I for my part begged him personally in the most urgent manner, and finally wrote to him; but nothing would persuade him. I swear to you on my honour that Napoleon was in a greater fix than he has ever been, and he might have lost half his army, but could not have taken Smolensk. Our troops have fought and are fighting as never before. With fifteen thousand men I have held the enemy in check for thirty-five hours and beaten them, but he wouldn't hold his ground for fourteen hours. It is a shame and a stain on our army, and as for himself, I consider he ought not to be alive. If he reports that our losses were great, it is false; perhaps about four thousand, not that, but that is nothing: if it had been ten thousand, what of it, that's war. But on the other hand the enemy's losses were immense.
“What would it have cost him to hold his ground for a couple of days? In any case they must have retired of their own accord; for they had no water for their men or their horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but all of a sudden sent an announcement that he was withdrawing in the night. We cannot fight in this way, and we may soon bring the enemy on to Moscow.…
“There is a rumour afloat that you are thinking of peace. To make peace, God preserve us! After all the sacrifices that have been made and after such mad retreats—to make peace, you will set all Russia against you, and every one of us will feel it a disgrace to wear the uniform. If it has come to that, we ought to fight as long as Russia can, and as long as there are men able to stand.…
“There must be one man in command, not two. Your minister, may be, is very well in the ministry; but as a general, he's not simply useless, but contemptible, and the fate of all our fatherland has been put in his hands…I am frantic, truly, with rage; forgive me for writing abusively. It is plain that the man does not love his sovereign, and desires the ruin of us all, who advises peace to be concluded and the minister to be put in command of the army. And so I write to you plainly: get the militia ready. For the minister is leading our visitors to the capital in the most skilful manner. The object of chief suspicion to the whole army is the aide-de-camp Woltzogen. They say he's more for Napoleon than for us, and everything the minister does is by his advice. I am not merely civil to him, but obey him like a corporal, though I am his senior. It is hard: but loving my sovereign and benefactor, I obey. And I grieve for the Tsar that he intrusts his gallant army to such a man. Consider that on our retreat we have lost more than fifteen thousand men from fatigue, or left sick in the hospitals; if we had attacked, that would not have been so. Tell me for God's sake what will Russia—our mother—say at our displaying such cowardice, and why are we abandoning our good and gallant country to the rabble and rousing the hatred and shame of every Russian? Why are we in a panic? what are we afraid of? It is not my fault that the minister is vacillating, cowardly, unreasonable, dilatory, and has every vice. All the army is bewailing it and loading him with abuse.…”
军队从斯摩棱斯克继续撤退。敌人紧追不舍。八月十日，安德烈公爵指挥的团队沿着大路行进，从通向童山的那条路旁经过。炎热和干旱已持续了三个多礼拜。每天，天空都飘着一团团卷曲的白云，偶尔遮住阳光；但到了黄昏，天空又一碧如洗，太阳慢慢沉入褐红色的薄雾中。只有夜晚厚重的露水滋润着大地。残留在麦茬上的麦粒被烤晒干了，撒落在田里。沼泽干涸，牲畜在被太阳烤焦的牧场上找不到饲料而饿得狂叫，只有夜晚在林子里，在露水还保存着的时候才是凉爽的。而在路上，在军队行进的大路上，甚至在夜间，即使在穿过树林，也没有那样的凉意。路面被搅起三——四寸深的尘土里，是看不到露水的。天刚一亮，部队便又开始行军。辎重车和炮车的轮毂，步兵的脚踝，都陷在酥软窒闷、夜里也未冷却的燥热的尘土里，无声地行进着。一部份的沙土被人的脚和车轮搅和着，另一部份扬起来，像云层一样悬浮在军队头顶上，钻入路上行人和牲畜的眼睛，毛发，耳朵，鼻孔，主要是钻入肺部。太阳升得愈高，尘土的云雾也升腾得愈高，但透过稀薄灼热的尘雾，那未被彩云遮盖的太阳仍然可用肉眼瞭望。太阳好似一轮火红的大球。没有一丝风，人们便在这凝滞的空气里喘息。他们行走时，都用毛巾缠住口鼻。每到一个村庄，便都涌到井边，为了争着喝水争得打起来，一直把井水喝到现出泥浆为止。
安德烈公爵统率着他那一团人马，忙于处理兵团的杂务，官兵的福利以及必须的收发命令等事项。斯摩棱斯克的大火和城市的放弃，对安德烈公爵说来是一个时代的特征。一种新的仇恨敌人的感情使他忘掉自己的悲痛。他全神贯注于本团的事务，关心自己的士兵和自己的军官，待他们亲切。团里都叫他我们的公爵，为他感到骄傲，并且热爱他。但他只有在和本团的人，和季莫欣之类的人相处才是善良温和的，这些人都是他新认识的，而且又处于和以前不同的环境，这些人不可能了解和知道他的过去；而他一接触到自己从前的相识，接触到司令部的人，他立刻又竖起头发；变得凶狠、好嘲弄、倨傲。一切使他联想起过去的东西，都使他反感，因此，在对待先前那个圈子的关系上，他只是尽量履行职责和避免不公正而已。
的确，一切照安德烈公爵现在看来，都处于黑暗和忧郁之中——尤其是八月六日放弃了斯摩棱斯克（他认为可以而且应当守住）之后，在他的老而且病的父亲不得不逃往莫斯科，抛弃他如此心爱的多年经营的盖满了住房并且迁进人口的童山，任敌人劫抢之后更觉得暗淡、凄惨，但尽管如此，因为有这一团人马的缘故，安德烈公爵得以考虑另一个与一般问题无关的事情——考虑自己的团队。八月十日，他那一团所在的纵队行至与童山平行的地方。安德烈公爵两天前得到了父亲、妹妹和儿子去了莫斯科的消息。虽然他在童山并没有什么事情可干，但是他生性喜爱自找悲痛，他于是决定顺便到童山去。
他吩咐给他备马，骑着马从行军途中驰往他父亲的乡村。他是在那里出生并度过了童年时代的。安德烈公爵骑马经过水塘旁边，先前那里总有几十个村妇一面谈天，一面捶着捣衣棒洗刷衣服，现在一个人影也看不到，散了架的木排①一半浸到水里，歪歪斜斜地飘到水塘中央。安德烈公爵策马走近看门人的小屋。入口的石头大门旁边没有人，门也是闭锁着的。花园的小径已被杂草淹没，牛犊和马匹在英国式的公园里游荡。安德烈公爵骑马来到暖房：玻璃已被打碎，种在桶里的树有一些倒下了，有一些枯死了。他呼唤花匠塔拉斯，无人回答。他绕过暖房到了标本园，看到雕木栏干完全断裂，结着果子的一些李树枝也已折断。安德烈公爵童年在大门口常见到的那位老农奴正坐在绿色长凳上编织树皮鞋。
①架在水塘边便于取水，洗衣，饮牲畜等。
他已聋了，听不见安德烈公爵走到近旁来。他坐在老公爵爱坐的那条长凳上，他的身旁，在枯死的折断的玉兰花枝条上，挂着树皮。
安德烈公爵骑马走到住宅前，老花园里的几棵菩提树已被砍伐，一匹花马带着马驹在住宅前边的蔷薇花丛中来回走动。窗户都钉上了护窗板。楼下的一扇窗户还开着。一个童仆看见安德烈公爵跑进住宅去了。
阿尔帕特奇送走家眷后，独自一人留在童山；他坐在屋里读一本《圣徒传》。听说安德烈公爵已回来，鼻梁上还架着眼镜，他便边扣衣服钮扣边走出宅院，急忙走到公爵身边，吻着安德烈公爵的膝盖，一句话不说地哭了起来。
然后，他转过身去，为自己的软弱而觉得气忿，开始报告各种事务。全部贵重物品都已运往博古恰罗沃。粮食，约一百俄石，也已运走；干草和春播作物，据阿尔帕特奇说，今年长势特别好是丰收作物，还未成熟就被军队割下征用了。农奴们也都破产，有些去了博古恰罗沃，一小部留了下来。
安德烈公爵不等他说完便问。
“父亲和妹妹什么时候去的？”——他指的是什么时候去莫斯科的。阿尔帕特奇以为问的是去博古恰罗沃，回答说七号去的，接着又细谈经营的事，询问今后的安排。
“您是否说军队开收条便可拿走燕麦？我们还剩下六百俄石呢。”阿尔帕特奇问。
“对他回答什么好呢？”安德烈公爵心里想，看着老人在阳光下闪闪发光的秃顶，从他脸上的表情看出，他自己也分明懂得这些问题不合时宜，不过是以问题来抑制悲伤罢了。
“好，发给他们吧。”他说。
“如果您看到花园里杂乱无章，”阿尔帕特奇说道，“那是没法防止的：有三个团经过这里，在这里住过，特别是龙骑兵。我记下了指挥官的官阶和姓名，以便递呈子。”
“呶，你怎么办呢？留下来吗，要是敌人占领了这里？”安德烈公爵问他。
阿尔帕特奇把脸转过来朝安德烈公爵，看着他，并突然庄严地举起一只手：
“上帝是我的护佑人，听从他的意旨！”他说。
成群的农奴和家奴从牧场走来，脱帽走近安德烈公爵。
“呶，告别了！”安德烈公爵从马上俯身对阿尔帕特奇说，“你自己也走，能带的都带上，把人都打发到梁赞或莫斯科附近的庄园去。”阿尔帕特奇挨着他的腿痛哭起来。安德烈公爵小心地推开他，使劲一催马，向下面的林荫道疾驰而去。
那个老头儿对这一切仍无动于衷，就像那叮在一个高贵的死者脸上的苍蝇一样，坐在标本园里敲打树皮鞋的楦头，两个小姑娘用衣裙儿兜着她们从暖房树上摘下的李子，从那里跑来碰上了安德烈公爵。大一点的那个姑娘一见到年轻的主人，满脸惊慌地拉起小伙伴的手，一起藏到一颗白桦树的后面，顾不得拾起撒落一地的青李子。
安德烈公爵也慌忙地转过脸去，避开她们，怕她们发觉他看到了她们。他怜悯那个好看的受了惊的小女孩。他害怕回头去看她，但又忍不住想看一眼。他沉浸在一阵新的喜悦的慰藉之中，因为他刚才看见那两个小女孩，明白了世上还存在着另一种对他完全陌生的合乎情理的人类的志趣，它同吸引着他的兴趣是一样的。这两个小姑娘显然渴望着一件事，即拿走和吃掉那些青李子，而且不被人抓住，安德烈公爵也同她俩一起希望这件事成功。他止不住再看了她们一眼。她们认为自己已脱离危险，便从隐藏的地方跳了出来，用尖细的小嗓子叫喊着，兜起衣襟，翻动着晒黑了的光脚板，愉快迅速地沿着牧场的草地跑开了。
离开大路上军队行进时扬起的灰尘区域，安德烈公爵多少感到一些清爽。但离童山不远，他又回到大路上，并在一处小水塘的堤坝旁，赶上正在休息的他那一团的队伍。那是午后一点多钟。太阳，灰尘弥漫中的赤红的圆球，透过他的黑外衣烘烤着他的背脊，令人难以忍受。灰尘依然一动不动地悬浮在停止前进的人声嘈杂的军队的上空。没有风。在驰马经过堤坝时，安德烈公爵闻到池塘的绿藻和清凉的气息。他很想跳到水里去——不管水是多么脏。他环视着池塘，那里传来喊叫声和笑闹的声音。这个不大的长有绿色植物的池塘，浑浊的池水已经涨高了半尺多，漫过了堤坝。因为池塘泡满了，赤裸裸的士兵、他们在池中打扑腾的手臂，脸庞和脖颈像红砖一样，而他们的躯体却是雪白的。所有这些雪白的光身子，在这肮脏的水洼里又笑又叫地扑扑通通玩，就像一群鲫鱼拥挤在一个戽斗里乱蹦乱跳似的，这样扑扑通通的玩水，带有一点欢乐的意味，因而反衬出分外的忧愁。
一个年轻的金发士兵——安德烈公爵认识他——是三连的，小腿肚上系一条皮带，画着十字往后退几步，以便更好地跑动，然后跳进水里去，另一个黑黑的，头发总是乱蓬蓬的军士，站在齐腰深的水里，肌肉发达的身子颤抖着高兴地喷着响鼻，用两只粗黑的手捧水淋自己的脑袋。池塘里响起一片互相泼水的声音，尖叫声，扑扑通通的响声。
岸上，堤坝上和池塘里，到处都是白晃晃的健康的肌肉发达的肉体。红鼻子的军官季莫欣，在堤上用毛巾擦身子，看到公爵时很难为情，但仍毅然对他说：
“可真是痛快，阁下，您也来吧！”他说。
“脏得很。”安德烈公爵皱了皱眉头说。
“我们立刻给您清场。”季莫欣还未穿上衣服就跑着去清场子。
“公爵要来洗了。”
“哪个公爵？我们的公爵吗？”许多声音一齐说，并且，大家都急忙地爬出池塘，安德烈公爵很费劲才劝阻了他们。他想还不如去棚子里冲洗一下。
“肉，躯体，chair a canon（炮灰）！”他看着自己赤裸的身体想道，全身哆嗦着，倒不是由于寒冷，而是由于看到众多躯体在肮脏的池塘里洗澡，因而产生一种无法理解的厌恶和恐怖。
八月七日，巴格拉季翁公爵在斯摩棱斯克大道上的米哈伊洛夫卡村驻地写了下面的信。
“阿列克谢·安德烈耶维奇伯爵阁下：（他是给阿拉克切耶夫写信，但他知道他的信将被皇上御览，故尔倾其所能地斟酌每一词语）。
我想，那位大臣已经报告了斯摩棱斯克落入敌手的消息。这一最重要的阵地白白地放弃，令人痛心悲伤，全军都陷于绝望，就我而言，我曾亲自极其恳切地说服他，后来还给他写了一封信；但什么也不能劝服他。我以我的名誉向您起誓，拿破仑从未像现在这样陷入绝境，他即使损失一半人马，也占领不了斯摩棱斯克的。我军战而又战，胜过以往。我率一万五千人坚守了三十五个小时以上，抗击了敌军；而他却不愿坚守十四小时。这真可耻，是我军的一大污点；而他自己呢，我觉得，是不配活在世上的。如果他报告说，损失惨重，——这不真实，可能是四千左右，不会再多，甚至还不到四千；哪怕是损失一万，也没法子，这是战争！而敌方的损失是难以计数的……
再坚守两天会有什么碍难呢？至少，他们会自己撤离；因为他们没有可供士兵和马匹饮用的水。那位大臣曾向我保证他不会败退，但他突然下达命令，说要晚上放弃阵地。这样就无法作战了，而我们可能很快把敌人引到莫斯科……
有传闻说，您要求和。可别讲和，经过这一切牺牲和如此疯狂的撤退之后——再来讲和；您会招致全俄国的反对，而我们中的每一位身穿军服的都会羞愧的。既然事已至此——
应该打下去，趁俄国尚有力量，趁人们还没有倒下……
应当由一个人指挥，而不是由两个人指挥。您的大臣作为一个内阁大臣可能是好的；但作为将军，不仅坏，而且坏透了，可他却肩负我们整个祖国的命运……的确，我由于沮丧而快要发疯，请原谅我冒昧给您写信。显然，那位建议缔结和约，建议由该大臣指挥军队的人，是不爱戴皇上并希望我们全体毁灭的人。因此，我向您呈诉实情：进行民团的准备吧。因为大臣正极巧妙地带领客人跟随自己进入古都。全军都对皇上的侍从沃尔佐根先生抱有极大的怀疑。据说，他更像拿破仑的人，而不像我们的人，就是他在向大臣提一切建议。我不仅对此恭恭敬敬，而且像班长一样服从他，虽然我比他年长。这很痛苦；但出于我对恩主皇上的爱戴，我得服从。只是为皇上惋惜，他竟把一支光荣的军队托附给了这样的人。您想想看，在退却中我们由于疲劳和在医院里减员共计损失了一万五千多人；如果发动进攻的话，不会损失那么多的。看在上帝面上，请告诉我，我们的俄罗斯，我们的母亲会怎样说，为什么我们如此担忧，为什么我们把多么善良而勤劳的祖国交给那些恶棍，使我们每个臣民感到仇恨和耻辱？干吗胆怯，有谁可怕的？我是没有罪过的。该大臣优柔寡断，胆怯，糊涂、迟钝，具有一切坏的品质，全军都在痛哭，诅咒他罪该万死……”
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