FOUR WEEKS had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner. Although the French had offered to transfer him from the common prisoners' shed to the officers', he had remained in the same shed as at first.

In Moscow, wasted by fire and pillage, Pierre passed through hardships almost up to the extreme limit of privation that a man can endure. But, owing to his vigorous health and constitution, of which he had hardly been aware till then; and still more, owing to the fact that these privations came upon him so gradually that it was impossible to say when they began, he was able to support his position, not only with ease, but with positive gladness. And it was just at this time that he attained that peace and content with himself, for which he had always striven in vain before. For long years of his life he had been seeking in various directions for that peace, that harmony with himself, which had struck him so much in the soldiers at Borodino. He had sought for it in philanthropy, in freemasonry, in the dissipations of society, in wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice, in his romantic love for Natasha; he had sought it by the path of thought; and all his researches and all his efforts had failed him. And now without any thought of his own, he had gained that peace and that harmony with himself simply through the horror of death, through hardships, through what he had seen in Karataev. Those fearful moments that he had lived through during the execution had, as it were, washed for ever from his imagination and his memory the disturbing ideas and feelings that had once seemed to him so important. No thought came to him of Russia, of the war, of politics, or of Napoleon. It seemed obvious to him that all that did not concern him, that he was not called upon and so was not able to judge of all that. “Russia and summer never do well together,” he repeated Karataev's words, and those words soothed him strangely. His project of killing Napoleon, and his calculations of the cabalistic numbers, and of the beast of the Apocalypse struck him now as incomprehensible and positively ludicrous. His anger with his wife, and his dread of his name being disgraced by her, seemed to him trivial and amusing. What business of his was it, if that woman chose to lead somewhere away from him the life that suited her tastes? What did it matter to any one—least of all to him—whether they found out or not that their prisoner's name was Count Bezuhov?

He often thought now of his conversation with Prince Andrey, and agreed fully with his friend, though he put a somewhat different construction on his meaning. Prince Andrey had said and thought that happiness is only negative, but he had said this with a shade of bitterness and irony. It was as though in saying this he had expressed another thought—that all the strivings towards positive happiness, that are innate in us, were only given us for our torment. But Pierre recognised the truth of the main idea with no such undercurrent of feeling. The absence of suffering, the satisfaction of needs, and following upon that, freedom in the choice of occupation, that is, of one's manner of life, seemed to Pierre the highest and most certain happiness of man. Only here and now for the first time in his life Pierre fully appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he was hungry, of drinking when he was thirsty, of sleep when he was sleepy, of warmth when he was cold, of talking to a fellow creature when he wanted to talk and to hear men's voices. The satisfaction of his needs—good food, cleanliness, freedom—seemed to Pierre now that he was deprived of them to be perfect happiness; and the choice of his occupation, that is, of his manner of life now that that choice was so limited, seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a superfluity of the conveniences of life destroys all happiness in satisfying the physical needs, while a great freedom in the choice of occupation, that freedom which education, wealth, and position in society had given him, makes the choice of occupations exceedingly difficult, and destroys the very desire and possibility of occupation.

All Pierre's dreams now turned to the time when he would be free. And yet, in all his later life, Pierre thought and spoke with enthusiasm of that month of imprisonment, of those intense and joyful sensations that could never be recalled, and above all of that full, spiritual peace, of that perfect, inward freedom, of which he had only experience at that period.

On the first day, when, getting up early in the morning, he came out of the shed into the dawn, and saw the cupolas and the crosses of the New Monastery of the Virgin, all still in darkness, saw the hoar frost on the long grass, saw the slopes of the Sparrow Hills and the wood-clad banks of the encircling river vanishing into the purple distance, when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the sounds of the rooks crying out of Moscow across the fields, and when flashes of light suddenly gleamed out of the east and the sun's rim floated triumphantly up from behind a cloud, and cupolas and crosses and hoar frost and the horizon and the river were all sparkling in the glad light, Pierre felt a new feeling of joy and vigour in life such as he had never experienced before.

And that feeling had not left him during the whole period of his imprisonment, but on the contrary had gone on growing in him as the hardships of his position increased.

That feeling—of being ready for anything, of moral alertness—was strengthened in Pierre by the high opinion in which he began to be held by his companions very soon after he entered the shed. His knowledge of languages, the respect shown him by the French, the good-nature with which he gave away anything he was asked for (he received the allowance of three roubles a week, given to officers among the prisoners), the strength he showed in driving nails into the wall, the gentleness of his behaviour to his companions, and his capacity—which seemed to him mysterious—of sitting stockstill doing nothing and plunged in thought, all made him seem to the soldiers a rather mysterious creature of a higher order. The very peculiarities that in the society he had previously lived in had been a source of embarrassment, if not of annoyance—his strength, his disdain for the comforts of life, his absent-mindedness, his good-nature—here among these men gave him the prestige almost of a hero. And Pierre felt that their view of him brought its duties.

自从皮埃尔被俘那天算起，已经四个星期了。虽然法国人提出要把他从士兵的棚子里转到军官的棚子里，但是他依然留在他在第一天进的那个棚子。

在遭到破坏和被大火焚毁了的莫斯科，皮埃尔几乎饱尝了一个人所能遭受的极端的艰辛和痛苦；但是，由于一直到现在他都还没有意识到的自己结实的身板和强迫的体魄，特别是由于这种艰难困苦的生活来得是那么不知不觉，很难说得出，它是从什么时候开始到来的，所以他不仅过得很轻松，而且对自己的处境还很高兴。正是在这一段时期，他得到了过去曾经努力追求而又追求不到的宁静和满足。他长期以来，在自己的生活中，从各个方面寻求这种宁静，这种内心的和谐，寻求那些参加波罗底诺战役的士兵身上所具有的那种极大地惊动了他的东西。他曾经在慈善事业中、在共济会的教义中、在放荡的城市生活中、在酒中、在自我牺牲的英雄事业中、在对娜塔莎的浪漫的爱情中寻求过那种心情；他曾经靠推理来寻求那种心情，但是，这一切寻求和所作过的尝试全都失败了。而现在，他自己并没有想到那种心怀，在从死亡的恐怖中、从艰辛困苦的生活中、从通过卡拉塔耶夫身上所懂得的东西中，才找到了这种宁静的内心的和谐。在行刑时他所经历的那可怕的一瞬间，那些往日他觉得激励他的重要的思想和感情，永远从他的想象和记忆中消失了。在他的脑海中，既没有俄罗斯，也没有战争，也没有政治，也没拿破仑。他清清楚楚地感觉到，所有这一切都与他毫不相干，他没有那样的天赋，因此他也就不能对这一切加以判断。“俄罗斯，夏天——不能连到一起，”他重复着卡拉塔耶夫的话，这句话使他得到极大的安慰。现在他觉得，他那刺杀拿破仑的企图，他推算那神秘的数字和“启示录”上的那头兽，都是莫明其妙的，甚至是可笑的。他对妻子的怨恨和唯恐辱没自己姓氏的忧虑，他现在觉得不但毫无意义，而且有点令人滑稽可笑。这个女人爱在什么地方过，爱怎样过，就怎样去过好啦，干他什么事呢？他们是知道，或者还不知道，他们的这个俘虏的名字是别祖霍夫伯爵，对一个人，特别是对他来，又有什么关系呢？

他现在常常回想起他和安德烈公爵在一起时交谈过的话，他完全赞同他的见解，不过他对安德烈公爵的思想有一些不同的理解。安德烈公爵这样想过，也这样说过，幸福是根本不存在的，不过，他在说这句话的时候是带有一种苦涩和讥讽的意味。他在说这句话的时候，仿佛是要说明另外一种思想，就是我们一心一意去追求肯定的幸福，肯定不能得到，只不过是折磨自己罢了。但是，在皮埃尔的思想上毫无保留地认为，这一点他说得对。没有痛苦，个人需要得到满足，以及由此而来的选择职业的自由——也就是选择生活方式的自由，所有这一切，现在皮埃尔觉得，确定无疑地是人类最高的幸福了。只有在这里，只有在这种时刻，只有当他饥饿的时候，皮埃尔才第一次完全体会到吃东西的快乐，只有当他口干的时候，才体会到喝水的快乐，只有当他寒冷的时候，才体会到温暖的快乐，只有当他想睡觉的时候，才体会到进入梦乡的快乐，只有当他渴望和人谈话和听见人的声音的时候，才体会到和人谈话的快乐。满足需要——好的仪器，清洁的环境，自由——如今，当他已经失去了所有这一切的时候，他才感觉到，这些需要的满足是最大的幸福，至于选择职业，也就是选择生活方式，现在，当这种选择受到这样限制的时候，他才感觉到这是很容易的事情，以致于他忘记了，生活条件的过分优越，就会破坏人类需要得到满足时的一切快乐，同时选择职业时最大限度的自由，例如，在他自己的生活中，他的教育、他的财产和他的社会地位所给予他的自由，恰恰是这种自由才使选择职业成为无法解决的难题，甚至连需要的本身和就业的可能性也不存在了。

现在，皮埃尔的一切幻想都集中到，他在什么时候可以获得自由。但是，在从那以后的日子里，在他整个的一生中，皮埃尔都是以一种欣喜若狂的心情回忆和谈论他在这一个月的时间里当俘虏的生活，以及那些一去不复返的、强烈的、喜悦的感触，主要的，回忆和谈论只有在这个时期才感受到的内心的完全的宁静和内心完全的自由。

第一天，他一大早就起了床，走出棚子，头一眼就看见新圣母修道院开始还发暗的圆屋顶和十字架，看见覆盖着尘土的草上的寒露，看见麻雀山的丘陵，看见隐没在淡紫色远方的，长满了树木的，蜿蜒着的河岸，他觉得空气清新，沁人肺腑，可以听到从莫斯科飞越田野的乌鸦的啼叫声，一会儿，在东方天际边，突然喷射出万道霞光，一轮红日从云层里渐渐显露出来。于是，圆屋顶，十字架、露水、远方和那条小河——所有这一切都在阳光下闪烁，这时，皮埃尔感觉到一种从来都没有经历过的，全新的，生活的喜悦和力量。

这种感情在他整个被俘期间不仅从来都没有离开过他，而且恰好相反，随着他的艰难困苦的处境变得更加艰难，而变得更强烈了。

他来到那个棚子之后不久，就在这里的同伴们中间享有极大的声誉，因此，他更乐于为人效劳而且精神奋发。皮埃尔由于自己的语言知识，由于法国人对他表示的尊敬，由于他的耿直，由于他对别人向他提出的任何要求都是有求必应（他每星期可以领到三个卢布的军官津贴费）；由于他的力气（他表演给士兵们看他用手把一根铁针按进棚子里面的墙壁上），由于他对同伴们的态度是那样和蔼可亲，由于他那种看起来什么事情都不想和一动也不动的静坐的本领，他在士兵们的心目中是一个神秘莫测的、有高级本领的人物，——正是由于这样一些原故，正由于他的这些特性，他在以往他生活的那个上流社会中即使对他无害，也令他感到拘束，可是在这里，在这些人中间，他力大无比、他蔑视舒适安逸的生活、他对一切都漫不经心、他单纯——这一切使他获得了近乎是一位英雄的地位。因此，皮埃尔觉得，所有的人的这种看法就把一种责任加到了他身上，使得他必须承担这种义务。