MADAME SCHOSS, who had gone out to visit her daughter, increased the countess's terrors by describing the scenes she had witnessed at a spirit dealer's in Myasnitsky Street. She entered that street on her way home, but could not pass through it owing to the drunken mob raging round the spirit dealer's. She had taken a cab and driven home by a circuitous route, and the driver had told her that the mob had broken open the casks of spirit, that orders had been given to that effect.

After dinner all the Rostov household set to work packing and preparing for their departure with eager haste. The old count, suddenly rousing himself to the task, spent the rest of the day continually trotting from the courtyard into the house and back again, shouting confused instructions to the hurrying servants, and trying to spur them on to even greater haste. Petya looked after things in the yard. Sonya was quite bewildered by the count's contradictory orders, and did not know what to do. The servants raced about the rooms, shouting, quarrelling, and making a noise. Natasha, too, suddenly set to work with the ardour that was characteristic of her in all she did. At first her intervention was sceptically received. No one expected anything serious from her or would obey her instructions. But with heat and perseverance she insisted on being obeyed, got angry and almost shed tears that they did not heed her, and did at last succeed in impressing them. Her first achievement, which cost her immense effort, and established her authority, was the packing of the rugs. There were a number of costly Gobelin tapestries and Persian rugs in the house. When Natasha set to work, she found two boxes standing open in the hall: one packed almost full of china, the other full of rugs. There was a great deal more china left standing on the tables and there was more still to come from the storeroom. Another third box was needed, and the men had gone to get one.

“Sonya, wait a little, and we'll pack it all without that,” said Natasha.

“You cannot, miss; we have tried already,” said the footman.

“No, wait a minute, please.” And Natasha began taking out the plates and dishes, packed up in paper

“The dishes would go better in here with the rugs,” she said.

“Why, there are rugs enough left that we shall hardly get into three boxes,” said the footman.

“But do wait a little, please.” And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out the things. “These we don't want,” she said of the plates of Kiev ware; “this and this we can pack in the rugs,” she decided, fishing out the Saxony dishes.

“Come, let it alone, Natasha; come, that's enough, we'll pack them,” said Sonya reproachfully.

“What a young lady!” protested the footman.

But Natasha would not give in. She pulled everything out, and began rapidly packing them again, deciding that the commoner rugs and crockery should not be taken at all. When she had taken everything out, she began repacking what was to go; and by sorting out almost all the cheaper goods which were not worth taking, all that was of value was got into two boxes. Only the lid of the box full of rugs would not shut. A few things might have been taken out, but Natasha wanted to manage it in her own way. She unpacked, repacked, squeezed the things in, made the footman and Petya, whom she had drawn into assisting in the work, press on the lid, and herself tried desperately to do the same.

“That will do, Natasha,” Sonya said to her. “I see you are quite right, but take out just the top one.”

“I won't,” cried Natasha, with one hand holding her disordered hair off her perspiring face, while with the other she squeezed down the rugs. “Press it, Petya, press it! Vassilitch, press hard!” she cried. The rugs yielded, and the lid closed. Natasha, clapping her hands, shrieked with delight, and tears started into her eyes. But that lasted only a second. She set to work at once on a fresh job; and now the servants put complete faith in her, and the count did not take it amiss when they told him that Natalya Ilyinitshna had given some direction superseding his orders; and the servants came to Natasha to ask whether a cart was packed full enough and whether the loads were to be tied on. The packing went on fast now, thanks to Natasha's supervision; everything useless was left behind, and the most valuable goods were packed as compactly as possible.

But with all their exertions, even late at night everything was not ready. The countess had fallen asleep, and the count put off their departure till morning and went to bed.

Sonya and Natasha slept in the divan-room, without undressing.

That night another wounded officer was driven along Povarsky Street, and Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought into the Rostovs' yard. The wounded officer must, Mavra Kuzminishna thought, be a man of very great consequence. He was in a coach with the hood let down and a carriage apron completely covering it. An old man, a most respectable-looking valet, was sitting on the box with the driver. A doctor and two soldiers followed the carriage in another conveyance.

“Come into our house, come in. The masters are going away, the whole house is empty,” said the old woman, addressing the old servant.

“Well,” answered the valet, sighing, “and indeed we have no hope of getting him home alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it is a long way further, and there's no one living in it either.”

“Pray come in, our masters have plenty of everything, and you are welcome,” said Mavra Kuzminishna. “Is the gentleman very bad, then?” she asked.

“There's no hope! I must ask the doctor.” And the valet got down and went to the vehicle behind.

“Very good,” said the doctor.

The valet went up to the coach again, peeped into it, shook his head, told the coachman to turn into the yard, and stood still beside Mavra Kuzminishna.

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy!” she murmured.

Mavra Kuzminishna suggested the wounded man being carried into the house.

“The masters won't say anything …” said she.

But they had to avoid lifting him up the steps, and so they carried the wounded man to the lodge, and put him in the room that had been Madame Schoss's. This wounded officer was Prince Andrey Bolkonsky.

肖斯太太去看女儿来着，她叙述在米亚斯尼茨街酒馆看到的景象，增加了伯爵夫人的恐惧。在回家的路上，她没法穿过酒馆闹事后喝醉了的人群。她雇了一辆马车兜圈子经小巷子才回到家；马车夫告诉她，人群砸开了酒馆的酒桶，说是吩咐过的。

午饭后，罗斯托夫全家人兴奋地忙着装放财物，为启程作准备。老伯爵突然管起事来，午饭后不停地从院子走到屋里，又再倒回院子，无缘无故地呵斥忙碌的家人，催促他们再加快。彼佳在院子里指挥。索尼娅不知道在伯爵前后矛盾的指派下到底该干什么，完全手足无措。人们又叫又吵又闹地在房间和院子里奔忙。娜塔莎以自己特有的爱管闲事的热情，突然也真干了起来。开头，她对清理装箱的干预没人买帐。大家等着看她闹笑话，都不听从她。但她坚持地热情不减地要求人家服从她，因为不听她的话她气得几乎哭了，最终取得了人们的信任。她付出巨大努力而赢得威望的第一件功绩，是收装地毯。伯爵家中有些gobelins①和波斯地毯。当娜塔莎开始干的时候，大厅里有两只敞开的大木箱：一只几乎装满了瓷器，另一只装了地毯。瓷器还有许多摆在桌上待装，从库房还不断搬出来。需要另装一箱，第三只箱子，于是人们去抬木箱子。

①戈贝兰地毯。

“索尼娅，穿一等，我们全都装得下的。”娜塔莎说。

“不成，小姐，我们试过了。”餐厅听差说。

“不，等一等，劳驾了。”娜塔莎开始从箱子里取出用纸包好的碟子和盘子。

“碟子应该放这儿，放到地毯里。”她说。

“还有些地毯，能装进三口箱子才好，愿上帝保佑。”听差说。

“可是，请等一下。”娜塔莎迅速而灵巧地重新挑选起来。

“这个不要装，”她说的是基辅盘子，“这个要，把这个放进地毯里。”她说的是萨克森碟子。

“你放下，娜塔莎；呶，够了，让我们装吧，”索尼娅责备地说。

“哎呀，小姐！”管家说。但娜塔莎毫不退让；她把全部东西腾出来，飞快地开始重新装箱，决定陈旧的家常地毯和多余的器皿不必全要。当所有这些不要的东西取出之后，再重新把要的东西放整齐。果然，取出来的多半是些便宜货，是些值不得带走的物品，全部有价值的物品装了两大箱。只有装地毯的木箱合不拢盖。可以再稍微取几件出来，可象娜塔莎想坚持己见。她放来放去，压紧，让听差和被她吸引也来收拾的彼佳一齐压紧盖子，她本人也作出最后的努力。

“行了嘛，娜塔莎，”索尼娅对她说，“我知道你是对的，就把面上的一个拿掉吧。”

“我不，”娜塔莎大叫，一只手拢拢披散在汗湿的脸上的头发，另一只手抻紧地毯。“快压，彼季卡，使劲压紧！瓦西里奇，压啊！”她又叫道。地毯压下去，箱盖关上了。娜塔莎拍拍手掌高兴得尖声叫喊，同时，眼里涌出了泪水，但这只过了一秒钟。她马上去干另一件事，现在她已获得了信任，连伯爵听人说娜塔莎娅·伊利尼什娜改变了他的命令时，也并不生气，家奴们有事也去请示娜塔莎；要不要装车，或者，如无车可装，便向那辆车装得够不够？多亏娜塔莎的指挥，事情进行得很顺当；不须要的东西留了下来，把最贵重的东西装得紧紧的，收装得稳妥牢靠。

但是，不管全家人如何忙碌，到深夜都还没有把一切收拾停当。伯爵夫人睡着了，伯爵把行期推延至早晨，也去睡了。

索尼娅、娜塔莎没脱衣服就在起居室睡了。

当晚，又一名伤员被车子拉着走过波瓦尔大街，站在大门口的玛夫拉·库兹米尼什娜把伤员让进罗斯托夫家。这一伤员，照玛夫拉·库兹米尼什娜看来，是极有身份的人。载着他的是一辆轻便马车，车厢关得严严实实，车篷也放下了。同驭手一起坐在前座上的，还有一名可敬的老仆人。后边跟着一辆大车，由医生和两名士兵乘坐。

“请到我们家里来，请吧。老爷夫人都要走了，整个府上空了。”老太婆向着老仆人说。

“只好这样了，”老仆人叹口气说，“赶不回去啦！我们自个儿的家也在莫斯科，远着哩，也没人住着哩。”

“请赏光住我们这儿吧，我们老爷夫人的东西可多哩样样都齐全，请吧。”玛夫拉·库兹米尼什娜说，“怎么，不舒服？”

她再问了一句。

老仆人摆摆手。

“我们不指望送他到家啊！应该问医生。”老仆从前座下来到大车那儿去。

“好的。”医生说。

老仆回到四轮马车旁，朝里面望了一望，摇摇头，吩咐驭手把车马拐进院子，他则停在玛夫拉·库兹米尼什娜身旁。

“主耶稣基督！”她喃喃地说。

玛夫娜·库兹米尼什娜建议把伤员抬进屋里去。

“老爷夫人不会反对的……”她说。但应该避免上楼梯，因而把伤员抬进了厢房，安置在肖斯太太过去住的屋子里。这位伤员是安德烈·博尔孔斯基公爵。