Book 2 Chapter 4

THE PAVLOGRADSKY REGIMENT of hussars was stationed two miles from Braunau. The squadron in which Nikolay Rostov was serving as ensign was billeted on a German village, Salzeneck. The officer in command of the squadron, Captain Denisov, known through the whole cavalry division under the name of Vaska Denisov, had been assigned the best quarters in the village. Ensign Rostov had been sharing his quarters, ever since he overtook the regiment in Poland.

On the 8th of October, the very day when at headquarters all was astir over the news of Mack's defeat, the routine of life was going on as before among the officers of this squadron.

Denisov, who had been losing all night at cards, had not yet returned home, when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a foraging expedition. Rostov, in his ensign's uniform, rode up to the steps, with a jerk to his horse, swung his leg over with a supple, youthful action, stood a moment in the stirrup as though loath to part from the horse, at last sprang down and called the orderly.

“Ah, Bondarenko, friend of my heart,” he said to the hussar who rushed headlong up to his horse. “Walk him up and down, my dear fellow,” he said, with that gay and brotherly cordiality with which good-hearted young people behave to every one, when they are happy.

“Yes, your excellency,” answered the Little Russian, shaking his head good-humouredly.

“Mind now, walk him about well!”

Another hussar rushed up to the horse too, but Bondarenko had already hold of the reins.

It was evident that the ensign was liberal with his tips, and that his service was a profitable one. Rostov stroked the horse on the neck and then on the haunch, and lingered on the steps.

“Splendid! What a horse he will be!” he said to himself, and smiling and holding his sword, he ran up the steps, clanking his spurs. The German, on whom they were billeted, looked out of the cowshed, wearing a jerkin and a pointed cap, and holding a fork, with which he was clearing out the dung. The German's face brightened at once when he saw Rostov. He smiled good-humouredly and winked. “Good-morning, good-morning!” he repeated, apparently taking pleasure in greeting the young man.

“At work already?” said Rostov, still with the same happy, fraternal smile that was constantly on his eager face. “Long live the Austrians! Long live the Russians! Hurrah for the Emperor Alexander!” he said, repeating phrases that had often been uttered by the German. The German laughed, came right out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and waving it over his head, cried:

“And long live all the world!”

Rostov too, like the German, waved his cap over his bead, and laughing cried: “And hurrah for all the world!” Though there was no reason for any special rejoicing either for the German, clearing out his shed, or for Rostov, coming back from foraging for hay, both these persons gazed at one another in delighted ecstasy and brotherly love, wagged their heads at each other in token of their mutual affection, and parted with smiles, the German to his cowshed, and Rostov to the cottage he shared with Denisov.

“Where's your master?” he asked of Lavrushka, Denisov's valet, well known to all the regiment as a rogue.

“His honour's not been in since the evening. He's been losing, for sure,” answered Lavrushka. “I know by now, if he wins, he'll come home early to boast of his luck; but if he's not back by morning, it means that he's lost,—he'll come back in a rage. Shall I bring coffee?”

“Yes, bring it.”

Ten minutes later, Lavrushka brought in the coffee.

“He's coming!” said he; “now for trouble!”

Rostov glanced out of the window and saw Denisov returning home. Denisov was a little man with a red face, sparkling black eyes, tousled black whiskers and hair. He was wearing an unbuttoned tunic, wide breeches that fell in folds, and on the back of his head a crushed hussar's cap. Gloomily, with downcast head, he drew near the steps.

“Lavrushka,” he shouted, loudly and angrily, lisping the r, “come, take it off, blockhead!”

“Well, I am taking it off,” answered Lavrushka's voice.

“Ah! you are up already,” said Denisov, coming into the room.

“Long ago,” said Rostov; “I've been out already after hay, and I have seen Fr?ulein Mathilde.”

“Really? And I've been losing, my boy, all night, like the son of a dog,” cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. “Such ill-luck! such ill-luck! …As soon as you left, my luck was gone. Hey, tea?”

Denisov, puckering up his face as though he were smiling, and showing his short, strong teeth, began with his short-fingered hands ruffling up his thick, black hair, that was tangled like a forest.

“The devil was in me to go to that rat” (the nickname of an officer), he said, rubbing his brow and face with both hands. “Only fancy, he didn't deal me one card, not one, not one card!” Denisov took the lighted pipe that was handed to him, gripped it in his fist, and scattering sparks, he tapped it on the floor, still shouting.

“He lets me have the simple, and beats the parole; lets me get the simple, and beats the parole.”

He scattered the sparks, broke the pipe, and threw it away. Then Denisov paused, and all at once he glanced brightly at Rostov with his gleaming black eyes.

“If there were only women. But here, except drinking, there's nothing to do. If only we could get to fighting soon.… Hey, who's there?” he called towards the door, catching the sounds of thick boots and clanking spurs that came to a stop, and of a respectful cough.

“The sergeant!” said Lavrushka. Denisov puckered up his face more than ever.

“That's a nuisance,” he said, flinging down a purse with several gold coins in it. “Rostov, count, there's a dear boy, how much is left, and put the purse under the pillow,” he said, and he went out to the sergeant. Rostov took the money and mechanically sorting and arranging in heaps the old and new gold, he began counting it over.

“Ah, Telyanin! Good-morning! I was cleaned out last night,” he heard Denisov's voice saying from the other room.

“Where was that? At Bykov's? At the rat's? … I knew it,” said a thin voice, and thereupon there walked into the room Lieutenant Telyanin, a little officer in the same squadron.

Rostov put the purse under the pillow, and shook the damp little hand that was offered him. Telyanin had for some reason been transferred from the guards just before the regiment set out. He had behaved very well in the regiment, but he was not liked, and Rostov, in particular, could not endure him, and could not conceal his groundless aversion for this officer.

“Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook doing for you?” (Rook was a riding-horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.) The lieutenant never looked the person he was speaking to in the face. His eyes were continually flitting from one object to another. “I saw you riding today …”

“Oh, he's all right; a good horse,” answered Rostov, though the horse, for which he had paid seven hundred roubles, was not worth half that sum. “He's begun to go a little lame in the left foreleg …” he added.

“The hoof cracked! That's no matter. I'll teach you, I'll show you the sort of thing to put on it.”

“Yes, please do,” said Rostov.

“I'll show you, I'll show you, it's not a secret. But you'll be grateful to me for that horse.”

“Then I'll have the horse brought round,” said Rostov, anxious to be rid of Telyanin. He went out to order the horse to be brought round.

In the outer room Denisov was squatting on the threshold with a pipe, facing the sergeant, who was giving him some report. On seeing Rostov, Denisov screwed up his eyes, and pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned and shook his head with an air of loathing.

“Ugh! I don't like the fellow,” he said, regardless of the presence of the sergeant.

Rostov shrugged his shoulders as though to say, “Nor do I, but what's one to do?” And having given his order, he went back to Telyanin.

The latter was still sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had left him, rubbing his little white hands.

“What nasty faces there are in this world!” thought Rostov as he went into the room.

“Well, have you given orders for the horse to be fetched out?” said Telyanin, getting up and looking carelessly about him.

“Yes.”

“Well, you come along yourself. I only came round to ask Denisov about yesterday's order. Have you got it, Denisov?”

“Not yet. But where are you off to?”

“I'm going to show this young man here how to shoe a horse,” said Telyanin.

They went out down the steps and into the stable. The lieutenant showed how to put on the remedy, and went away to his own quarters.

When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and some sausage on the table. Denisov was sitting at the table, and his pen was squeaking over the paper. He looked gloomily into Rostov's face.

“I am writing to her,” he said. He leaned his elbow on the table with the pen in his hand, and obviously rejoiced at the possibility of saying by word of mouth all he meant to write, he told the contents of his letter to Rostov. “You see, my dear boy,” he said, “we are plunged in slumber, we are the children of dust and ashes, until we love … but love, and you are a god, you are pure, as on the first day of creation.… Who's that now? Send him to the devil! I've no time!” he shouted to Lavrushka, who, not in the slightest daunted, went up to him.

“Why, who should it be? You told him to come yourself. The sergeant has come for the money.”

Denisov frowned, seemed about to shout some reply, but did not speak.

“It's a nuisance,” he said to himself. “How much money was there left there in the purse?” he asked Rostov.

“Seven new and three old gold pieces.”

“Oh, it's a nuisance! Well, why are you standing there, you mummy? Send the sergeant!” Denisov shouted to Lavrushka.

“Please, Denisov, take the money from me; I've plenty,” said Rostov, blushing.

“I don't like borrowing from my own friends; I dislike it,” grumbled Denisov.

“But if you won't take money from me like a comrade, you'll offend me. I've really got it,” repeated Rostov.

“Oh, no.” And Denisov went to the bed to take the purse from under the pillow.

“Where did you put it, Rostov?”

“Under the lower pillow.”

“But it's not there.” Denisov threw both the pillows on the floor. There was no purse. “Well, that's a queer thing.”

“Wait a bit, haven't you dropped it?” said Rostov, picking the pillows up one at a time and shaking them. He took off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there.

“Could I have forgotten? No, for I thought that you keep it like a secret treasure under your head,” said Rostov. “I laid the purse here. Where is it?” He turned to Lavrushka.

“I never came into the room. Where you put it, there it must be.”

“But it isn't.”

“You're always like that; you throw things down anywhere and forget them. Look in your pockets.”

“No, if I hadn't thought of its being a secret treasure,” said Rostov, “but I remember where I put it.”

Lavrushka ransacked the whole bed, glanced under it and under the table, ransacked the whole room and stood still in the middle of the room. Denisov watched Lavrushka's movements in silence, and when Lavrushka flung up his hands in amazement to signify that it was nowhere, he looked round at Rostov.

“Rostov, none of your schoolboy jokes.”

Rostov, feeling Denisov's eyes upon him, lifted his eyes and instantly dropped them again. All his blood, which felt as though it had been locked up somewhere below his throat, rushed to his face and eyes. He could hardly draw his breath.

“And there's been no one in the room but the lieutenant and yourselves. It must be here somewhere,” said Lavrushka.

“Now then, you devil's puppet, bestir yourself and look for it!” Denisov shouted suddenly, turning purple and dashing at the valet with a threatening gesture. “The purse is to be found, or I'll flog you! I'll flog you all!”

Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning up his jacket fastening on his sword, and putting on his forage-cap.

“I tell you the purse is to be found,” roared Denisov, shaking the orderly by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall.

“Denisov, let him be; I know who has taken it,” said Rostov, going towards the door without raising his eyes.

Denisov stopped, thought a moment, and evidently understanding Rostov's hint, he clutched him by the arm.

“Nonsense!” he roared so that the veins stood out on his neck and forehead like cords. “I tell you, you've gone out of your mind; I won't allow it. The purse is here; I'll flay the skin off this rascal, and it will be here.”

“I know who has taken it,” repeated Rostov, in a shaking voice, and he went to the door.

“And I tell you, you're not to dare to do it,” shouted Denisov, making a dash at the ensign to detain him. But Rostov pulled his arm away, lifted his eyes, and looked directly and resolutely at Denisov with as much fury as if he had been his greatest enemy.

“Do you understand what you're saying?” he said in a trembling voice; “except me, there has been no one else in the room. So that, if it's not so, why then …”

He could not utter the rest, and ran out of the room.

“Oh, damn you and all the rest,” were the last words Rostov heard.

Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters.

“The master's not at home, he's gone to the staff,” Telyanin's orderly told him. “Has something happened?” the orderly added, wondering at the ensign's troubled face.

“No, nothing.”

“You've only just missed him,” said the orderly.

The staff quarters were two miles and a half from Salzeneck. Not having found him at home, Rostov took his horse and rode to the quarters of the staff. In the village, where the staff was quartered, there was a restaurant which the officers frequented. Rostov reached the restaurant and saw Telyanin's horse at the entry.

In the second room the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of sausages and a bottle of wine.

“Ah, you have come here too, young man,” he said, smiling and lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes,” said Rostov, speaking as though the utterance of the word cost him great effort; and he sat down at the nearest table.

Both were silent; there were two Germans and a Russian officer in the room. Every one was mute, and the only sounds audible were the clatter of knives on the plates and the munching of the lieutenant. When Telyanin had finished his lunch, he took out of his pocket a double purse; with his little white fingers, that were curved at the tips, he parted the rings, took out some gold, and raising his eyebrows, gave the money to the attendant.

“Make haste, please,” he said.

The gold was new. Rostov got up and went to Telyanin.

“Let me look at the purse,” he said in a low voice, scarcely audible.

With shifting eyes, but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin gave him the purse.

“Yes, it's a pretty purse … yes …” he said, and suddenly he turned white. “You can look at it, young man,” he added.

Rostov took the purse in his hand and looked both at it and at the money in it, and also at Telyanin. The lieutenant looked about him, as his way was, and seemed suddenly to have grown very good-humoured.

“If we go to Vienna, I suspect I shall leave it all there, but now there's nowhere to spend our money in these wretched little places,” he said. “Come, give it me, young man; I'm going.”

Rostov did not speak.

“What are you going to do? have lunch too? They give you decent food,” Telyanin went on. “Give it me.” He put out his hand and took. hold of the purse. Rostov let go of it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly dropping it into the pocket of his riding trousers, while his eyebrows were carelessly lifted and his mouth stood a little open, as though he would say: “Yes, yes, I'm putting my purse in my pocket, and that's a very simple matter, and no one has anything to do with it.”

“Well, young man?” he said with a sign, and from under his lifted eyebrows he glanced into Rostov's eyes. A kind of gleam passed with the swiftness of an electric flash from Telyanin's eyes to the eyes of Rostov, and back again and back again and again, all in one instant.

“Come here,” said Rostov, taking Telyanin by the arm. He almost dragged him to the window. “That's Denisov's money; you took it …” he whispered in his ear.

“What? … what? … How dare you? What?” … said Telyanin. But the words sounded like a plaintive, despairing cry and prayer for forgiveness. As soon as Rostov heard the sound of his voice, a great weight of suspense, like a stone, rolled off his heart. He felt glad, and at the same instant he pitied the luckless creature standing before him, but he had to carry the thing through to the end.

“God knows what the people here may think,” muttered Telyanin, snatching up his forage-cap and turning towards a small empty room. “You must explain …”

“I know that, and I'll prove it,” said Rostov.

“I …”

The terrified, white face of Telyanin began twitching in every muscle; his eyes still moved uneasily, but on the ground, never rising to the level of Rostov's face, and tearful sobs could be heard.

“Count! … don't ruin a young man … here is the wretched money, take it.” … He threw it on the table. “I've an old father and mother!”

Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and without uttering a word, he went out of the room. But in the doorway he stopped and turned back.

“My God!” he said, with tears in his eyes, “how could you do it?”

“Count,” said Telyanin, coming nearer to the ensign.

“Don't touch me,” said Rostov, drawing back. “If you're in need take the money.”

He thrust a purse on him and ran out of the restaurant.

保罗格勒骠骑兵团驻扎在离布劳瑙两英里的地方。士官生尼古拉·罗斯托夫服役的骑兵连在德国村庄扎尔策涅克设营。骑兵连长杰尼索夫大尉素以瓦西卡·杰尼索夫这个名字闻名于整个骑兵师，村庄中一栋极好的住宅分拨给他了。自从士官生在波兰赶上团队以来，他就和连长住在一个地方。

十月八日，适逢马克失败的消息正惊扰大本营的上上下下，骑兵连部的行军生活照旧是风平浪静。清晨，当罗斯托夫骑着马儿采办饲料回来时，一通宵打纸牌输钱的杰尼索夫尚未回家。罗斯托夫身穿一套士官生制服，正催马跑到台阶前面，用那年轻人的灵活的姿势缩回一条腿，在马镫上站了片刻，好像他不想离开坐骑似的，后来他一跃跳下马来，向马弁喊了一声。

“啊，邦达连科，诚挚的朋友，”他对那拼命跑到他的坐骑前面的骠骑兵说道。“朋友，牵马遛一遛。”他说道，一面流露着亲切的愉快而温和的神态，凡是善良的年轻人在那幸福的时候都会带着这种神态和人们打交道的。

“大人，遵命。”一簇毛（指乌克兰人）愉快地晃着脑袋答道。

“要当心，好好地牵马遛一遛！”

另一个骠骑兵也跑到坐骑前面，可是邦达连科已经把缰绳扔了过来。显然，士官生给的酒钱可多啦，侍候他是有利可图的。罗斯托夫用手摸了摸马脖子，然后摸了摸马屁股，便在台阶上停步了。

“真棒！会变成一匹骏马啊！”他暗自说道，面露微笑，轻轻扶着马刀，马刺铿锵一声奔上了台阶。德国主人穿一件毛衣，戴尖顶帽子，拿着叉子清除牛粪，他从牛栏里向外面瞥了一眼。当德国人一看见罗斯托夫，他的脸色顿时开朗起来。他愉快地微微一笑，丢了个眼色：“Schon，gutMorgen！Schongutmorgen！”①他重复地说道，看起来，他和年轻人寒暄时能够得到欢乐。

“Schonfleissig！”②罗斯托夫说道，他那兴奋的脸上仍旧流露着愉快的亲切的微笑。“HochOestrreicher！HochRussen！KaiserAlexanderhoch！”③他把脸转向德国人，把德国主人常说的这些话重复地说一遍。

①德语：早安，早安！

②德语：真在干活啦！

③德语：奥国人万岁！俄国人万岁！亚历山大皇帝，乌拉！

德国人笑了起来，干脆走出牛栏门，摘下尖顶帽子，举在头顶上晃了一下，高声喊道：

“UnddieganzeWelthoch！”①

罗斯托夫和德国人一样，把一顶军帽举在头顶上晃动一下，含笑地高声喊道：“UndVivatdieganzeWelt！⑤

①⑤　德语：全世界万岁！

无论是这个清扫牛栏的德国人，还是那个随同一排人来领干草的罗斯托夫，都没有任何理由值得特别高兴，但是这两个人都心怀幸福的欢乐和兄弟般的爱心彼此望了一眼，晃了晃脑袋表示彼此之间的友爱，他们面露微笑地走开了，德国人走回牛栏，罗斯托夫走进他和杰尼索夫一同占用的农舍。

“老爷怎么啦？”他向杰尼索夫的仆役拉夫鲁什卡——闻名于全团的骗子手问道。

“从晚上出去就没有归来，大概是输了钱吧，”拉夫鲁什卡答道，“我的确心中有数。假如赢了钱，老早就会回来说大话。倘若到早上还没有回来，就是说，输净了，怒气冲冲地走回来。请问，要咖啡吗？”

“端来，端来吧！”

过了十分钟，拉夫鲁什卡端来了咖啡。

“来了！”他说道，“现在要吃霉头了。”

罗斯托夫朝窗口睇了一眼，看见杰尼索夫走回家来，杰尼索夫身材矮小，红彤彤的面孔，眼睛乌黑，闪闪发亮，黝黑的胡髭和头发十分蓬乱。他身上披着一件骠骑兵的斗篷，敞开着，没有扣上纽扣，宽大的马裤下垂着，起了一条条皱褶。皱皱巴巴的骠骑兵制帽戴到后脑勺上。他低垂着头，满面愁云，向台阶近旁走来。

“拉夫鲁什卡，”他怒气冲冲地高声嚷道，“P”音发得不准确，“喂，给我脱下，蠢货！”

“我本来就在脱嘛。”拉夫鲁什卡答道。

“啊！你起来了。”杰尼索夫走进房里来，说道。

“早就起来了，”罗斯托夫说道，“我来领干草，见过玛蒂尔达小姐了。”

“真有这么一回事？老弟，我昨夜像只狗崽仔，把钱输得精光了！”杰尼索夫高声嚷道，“真不走运！真不走运！你一走，事情就变得糟透了。喂，把茶端来吧！”

杰尼索夫蹙起了额头，似乎含着一丝微笑，露出坚固的短牙齿，开始伸出两手，用那短短的手指搔乱树林般蓬松的浓浓的黑发。

“鬼迷心窍，拖我去找这个大老鼠（一名军官的绰号），”他用自己的两手搓搓前额和面颊，说道，“你设想一下，他一张牌，一张牌也没有给我。”

杰尼索夫拿取人家递给他的点着的烟斗，紧紧攥在手心里，磕了磕地板，火星撒落下来，他继续吼道：

“孤注他就让，加倍下注他就吃，孤注他就让，加倍下注他就吃。”

他把火星撒落在地上，敲灭了烟斗，把它丢到一边去。然后他沉默片刻，突然把那明亮的乌黑的眼睛朝着罗斯托夫欢快地望望。

“哪怕有女人也好。要不然，这里除了饮酒就没有什么事情可做，快点儿打起架来也好……”

“喂，谁在那里？”他听见了马刺丁丁当当的响声、踏着厚底皮靴停止脚步的响声和那谨小慎微的咳嗽声，便朝门口转过脸去，说道。

“骑兵司务长！”拉夫鲁什卡说道。

杰尼索夫把额角蹙得更紧了。

“真糟糕，”他说道，一面把装着少数金币的钱包扔开来。

“罗斯托夫，亲爱的，点点那里面还剩下多少钱，再把它搁到枕头底下。”他说完这句话，就向骑兵司务长跟前走去了。

罗斯托夫取出钱来，机械地把新旧金币一堆一堆地摆放整齐，开始点钱。

“啊！捷利亚宁，你好！昨天我输得精光了。”从另一个房间传来杰尼索夫的说话声。

“是在谁那儿？是在大老鼠贝科夫那儿么？……我是知道的。”另一个人用尖细的嗓音说道，随后捷利亚宁中尉走进了这个房间，他身材矮小，也是那个骑兵连的一名军官。

罗斯托夫把钱包掷到枕头底下，握握向他伸出来的湿漉漉的小手。捷利亚宁不知是什么缘由在出征前从近卫军中调出来了。他在兵团中表现得十分出色，可是大家都不喜欢他，尤其是罗斯托夫，罗斯托夫既没法克制也没法掩饰他对这个军官的毫无理由的憎恶。

“喂，年轻的骑兵，怎么样了？您觉得我的秃鼻乌鸦不错吧？”他问道（秃鼻乌鸦是捷利亚宁卖给罗斯托夫的一匹刚能骑的幼马）。

中尉和人交谈时，从来都不看交谈者的眼睛，他的目光经常从一个目标很快地移到另一个目标。

“我看见您今天骑着马儿走过去了……”

“是的，挺不错，是一匹骏马，”罗斯托夫答道，这匹马花了七百卢布买来的，但它值不到这个价格的一半，“左前腿微跛……”他补充说道。

“马蹄裂开了！没关系啊。我来教教您并且给您说明怎样安好脚钉。”

“是的，请您指教指教。”罗斯托夫说道。

“我给您说明，我给您说明，这不是秘密。您买这匹马，以后您会感谢我的。”

“那么我请人把马儿牵来。”罗斯托夫说道，他想避开捷利亚宁，就走出去请人将马牵来。

杰尼索夫拿着烟斗，在过道屋的门槛上弯下身子，面对着向他禀告什么事的骑兵司务长坐着。杰尼索夫看见罗斯托夫，皱起了眉头，伸出大拇指从肩头上向后指了一下捷利亚宁坐着的那个房间，又皱了一阵眉头，憎恶地抖抖身子。

“唉，我不喜欢这个坏东西。”他在骑兵司务长面前出言不逊地说道。

罗斯托夫耸耸肩，好像他在说：“我也讨厌他，可是有啥办法呢！”他吩咐完毕，就回到捷利亚宁身边去了。

捷利亚宁一直坐着，仍然保持着罗斯托夫离开他时的那副懒洋洋的样子，一面搓着他那双洁白的小手。

“这种可恶的人倒是常见的。”罗斯托夫走进房间时，思忖了一会。

“究竟怎么样，您已经吩咐牵马了吗？”捷利亚宁说道，站起身来，漫不经心地环顾四周。

“已经吩咐了。”

“我们一道去吧。要知道，我只是顺路来向杰尼索夫问问昨天的命令，杰尼索夫，接到命令吗？”

“还没有接到。您上哪里去呀？”

“我想教会年轻人给马钉掌。”捷利亚宁说道。

他们步出台阶，向马厩走去了。中尉说明了怎样给马钉掌，就走回去了。

罗斯托夫回来时，桌子上放着一瓶烧酒和一份香肠，杰尼索夫坐在桌前写字，笔尖刷刷地作响。他脸色阴沉地望了望罗斯托夫的面孔。

“我给她写封信。”他说道。

他手里拿着钢笔，用胳膊肘支撑着桌子，很明显，他高兴的是，有机会立刻把他想写的话简而明地全说出来，于是向罗斯托夫道出信中的内容。

“朋友，你是否知道，”他说道，“我们不恋爱，就睡个痛快。我们都是浮云般的尘世俗子……只要我们一恋爱，就会变成神仙了，就会像创世的头一天那样圣洁……又有谁来了？赶他去见鬼吧。没有功夫啊！”他向那个毫不胆怯地向他面前走来的拉夫鲁什卡喊道。

“还有谁会来呢？您自己吩咐他的。骑兵司务长来领款了。”

杰尼索夫蹙起额角，想大叫一声，但又默不作声了。

“糟糕透了，”他自言自语地说道，“那钱包里剩下多少钱？”他向罗斯托夫问道。

“七块新币，三块旧币。”

“唉，糟糕透了！丑八怪，你干嘛站着，派司务长去吧！”

杰尼索夫向拉夫鲁什卡喊了一声。

“杰尼索夫，别客气，请把我的钱拿去吧，要知道，我这儿还有啦。”罗斯托夫涨红着脸说道。

“我不喜欢向自己人借钱，我不喜欢。”杰尼索夫唠唠叨叨地说了一顿。

“如果你不够朋友，硬不用我的钱，那末，我真会生气的。

说实在的，我有钱哩。”罗斯托夫重复地说。

“不。”

杰尼索夫于是乎走到床前，从枕头底下拿钱包。

“罗斯托夫，你把它搁在那儿呢？”

“在下面一个枕头底下啊。”

“没有啊。”

杰尼索夫把两个枕头丢到地上了，钱包不在了。

“真怪！”

“等一下，你是不是把它丢掉了？”罗斯托夫说道，他把枕头一个个捡起来，抖了好几下。

他翻转被子抖了抖，钱包不在了。

“我把它忘了？忘不了啊，我还以为，你好像枕珍宝那样，把它枕在头底下，”罗斯托夫说道。“我把钱包搁在这儿。钱包在哪儿？”他把脸转向拉夫鲁什卡，说道。

“我没有走进房里来。您搁在哪儿，就还在哪儿。”

“可是，没有钱包啊。”

“您老是这个样子，把东西往哪儿一丢，就忘记了。请您瞧瞧您的口袋吧。”

“不，如果我没有想到它是件珍宝，那就会忘掉，”罗斯托夫说道，“其实我记得，我把它放好了的。”

拉夫鲁什卡把床铺翻寻遍了，瞅了瞅床底下，桌子底下，把整个房间翻遍了，就在这个房间的中间停步了。杰尼索夫默不作声地注视着拉夫鲁什卡的行动，当拉夫鲁什卡惊奇地摊开两手，诉说到处都没有钱包的时候，他掉过头来望了望罗斯托夫。

“罗斯托夫，你不要像孩子般地胡闹……”

罗斯托夫感到杰尼索夫的视线已经投到他身上了，他抬起眼睛，瞬即低垂下来。原先憋在他喉咙底下的全部血流，现已涌到他的面颊和眼睛里了。他简直喘不过气来。

“除了中尉和您自己之外，房间里没有人来过。钱包还在房间里的什么地方。”拉夫鲁什卡说道。

“喂，你这个玩鬼的东西，转身就去找吧，”杰尼索夫的脸涨得通红，装出一副威吓的姿势，向仆役身上扑将过去，忽然喊道，“一定要找到，否则我就要用鞭子打人。你们一个个都要挨打。”

罗斯托夫回避杰尼索夫的目光，扣紧制服上衣，扣上佩带的马刀，戴上制服帽。

“我对你说，一定要找到钱包。”杰尼索夫喊道，一把抓住勤务兵的肩膀摇晃着，把他推到墙上乱撞几下。

“杰尼索夫，把他放开，我知道是什么人把它拿走了。”罗斯托夫说道，没有抬起眼睛，向门口走去。

杰尼索夫停步了，思忖了片刻，显然他明白，罗斯托夫在暗示什么，于是就抓住他的手。

“废话！”他喊道，他的颈上和额角上鼓起绳子般大小的青筋，“我对你说，你神经错乱了，我不容许这样。钱包就在这儿，我来把这个坏蛋狠揍一顿，钱包就会在这儿找到的。”

“我知道是什么人把它拿走的。”罗斯托夫声音颤栗地补充了一句，向门口走去。

“我告诉你，决不许这样做。”杰尼索夫喊道，向这名士官生扑将过去，想把他拦住。

但是罗斯托夫把手挣脱了，他恶狠狠地直盯着杰尼索夫，仿佛杰尼索夫是他的最大的敌人似的。

“你是否明白你在说什么话么？”他声音颤栗地说道，“除我而外，这个房间里谁也没来过。这么说来，假如不是这种情形，那么就是……”

他没法说下去，从房间里跑出去了。

“咳，你算了吧，你们大家算了吧。”这就是罗斯托夫听见的最后几句话。

罗斯托夫来到了捷利亚宁的住宅。

“老爷不在家哩，他到司令部去了，”捷利亚宁的勤务兵对他说道。“或者是出什么事了？”勤务兵补充了一句，他对士官生的扫兴的脸色感到惊奇。

“不，没什么。”

“早来片刻，就碰见了。”勤务兵说道。

司令部驻扎在离那个扎尔策涅克村三俄里远的地方。罗斯托夫没有顺路回家，骑了一匹马，直奔司令部去了。司令部扎营的那个村子有一家酒肆，军官们常来光顾。罗斯托夫来到了酒肆，他在台阶旁望见了捷利亚宁的座骑。

中尉坐在酒肆的第二间屋里用餐，他身旁摆着一盘香肠、一瓶葡萄酒。

“啊，小伙子，您也来了。”他说道，面露微笑，竖起了两撇眉毛。

“嗯。”罗斯托夫说道，仿佛费了很大气力才吐出这个字，他在邻近的桌旁坐下来。

二人都默不作声，两个德国人和一名俄国军官坐在房间里。大家都不开口，可以听见刀子和盘子碰击时发出铿锵的声音、中尉吃饭时吧答吧答的声音捷利亚宁吃罢早餐，从他荷包中取出一个对折的钱包，弯弯地竖起几个洁白的小指头，拉开扣环，掏出一块金币，微微地扬起眉尖，把钱交给侍从。

“请你快点吧。”他说道。

这是一块很新的金币。罗斯托夫站立起来走到捷利亚宁跟前。

“让我瞧瞧这个钱包，”他说道，嗓音很低，几乎听不清楚。

捷利亚宁的眼珠子不停地来回乱转，老是竖起眉尖，把钱包交给他。

“是啊，这是个好钱包……是啊……是啊……”他说道，脸色忽然变得惨白了。“小伙子，瞧瞧。”他补充一句话。

罗斯托夫拿起钱包望了望，又望了望钱包里的钱，还望了望捷利亚宁。中尉习惯地向四周环顾，他忽然觉得愉快极了。

“如果我在维也纳，我就要把钱全部用掉，眼前在这些糟糕透了的小市镇上，有钱也无处可花，”他说道，“得啦，小伙子，给我好了，我就要走了。”

罗斯托夫默不作声。

“您怎么了？也要用早餐吗？伙食很不错，”捷利亚宁继续说下去，“给我好了。”

他伸出手来，抓住了钱包。罗斯托夫放开手中的钱包。捷利亚宁拿起钱包就搁进紧腿裤的口袋里，随便地竖起眉尖，微微地张开嘴唇，好像他在说：“是啊，是啊，我把自己的钱包搁进口袋里，这是很寻常的事，与任何人无关。”

“小伙子，怎么了？”他说道，叹了一口气，从微微竖起的眉尖底下望了望罗斯托夫的眼睛。有一线目光从捷利亚宁眼睛中有如闪电迸发的火星似地投射到罗斯托夫的眼睛中，反射回去，又反射回来，再反射回去，这一切都是在顷刻之间发生的。

“请到这里来，”罗斯托夫说道，一把抓住捷利亚宁的手。他几乎把他拖到窗子前面了。“这是杰尼索夫的钱，您把它拿走了……”他凑近他的耳根轻声地说道。

“怎么？……怎么？……您胆敢这么说？怎么？……”捷利亚宁说道。

可是这些话，听起来像是诉苦的绝望的喊叫，又像是祈求宽宥。罗斯托夫听见他的话语声，心中的狐疑有如巨石落了下来。他觉得心旷神怡，与此同时，他又怜悯起这个站在他跟前的不幸的人；但是必须把已经开始做的事情全部完成。

“天知道这里的人们会想些什么事，”捷利亚宁喃喃地说，他手中拿着一顶军帽，向那空荡荡的小房间走去，“应当说个明白……”

“这一点我是知道的，我来证明一下。”罗斯托夫说道。

“我……”

捷利亚宁那张惊恐而惨白的脸上，一块块肌肉颤栗起来了。他的眼珠儿还是不停地乱转，只是向下看，而没有抬起眼睛来瞥视罗斯托夫的面孔；这时可以听见啜泣声。

“伯爵！……您不要糟蹋年轻人吧……这是些倒霉的钱，拿去吧……”他把钱抛到桌上，“我有年老的父亲和母亲！

……”

罗斯托夫避开捷利亚宁的目光，拿起钱来，一句话没说，便从房间里走了出来。但是他在门旁停步了，往回头路上走去。

“我的天啊，”他两眼噙着泪水，说道，“您怎么能够做出这种事？”

“伯爵。”捷利亚宁向一名士官生近旁走去，说道。

“您别触动我，”罗斯托夫避开时说道，“假如您要钱用，就把这些钱拿去吧。”他向他扔出了钱包，便从酒肆中跑出来。