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Book 2 Chapter 12

AT THE LEVéE the Emperor Francis only looked intently into Prince Andrey's face, and nodded his long head to him as he stood in the place assigned him among the Austrian officers. But after the levée the adjutant of the previous evening ceremoniously communicated to Bolkonsky the Emperor's desire to give him an audience. The Emperor Francis received him, standing in the middle of the room. Prince Andrey was struck by the fact that before beginning the conversation, the Emperor seemed embarrassed, didn't know what to say, and reddened.

“Tell me when the battle began,” he asked hurriedly. Prince Andrey answered. The question was followed by others, as simple: “Was Kutuzov well?” “How long was it since he left Krems?” and so on. The Emperor spoke as though his sole aim was to put a certain number of questions. The answers to these questions, as was only too evident, could have no interest for him.

“At what o'clock did the battle begin?” asked the Emperor.

“I cannot inform your majesty at what o'clock the battle began in the front lines, but at D?renstein, where I was, the troops began the attack about six in the evening,” said Bolkonsky, growing more eager, and conceiving that now there was a chance for him to give an accurate description, just as he had it ready in his head, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled and interrupted him:

“How many miles?”

“From where to where, your majesty?”

“From D?renstein to Krems?”

“Three and a half miles, your majesty.”

“The French abandoned the left bank?”

“As our scouts reported, the last crossed the river on rafts in the night.”

“Have you enough provisions at Krems?”

“Provisions have not been furnished to the amount…”

The Emperor interrupted him:

“At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?”

“At seven o'clock, I think.”

“At seven o'clock? Very sad! very sad!”

The Emperor said that he thanked him, and bowed. Prince Andrey withdrew, and was at once surrounded by courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw friendly eyes gazing at him, and heard friendly voices addressing him. The adjutant of the preceding evening reproached him for not having stopped at the palace, and offered him his own house. The minister of war came up and congratulated him on the Order of Maria Theresa of the third grade, with which the Emperor was presenting him. The Empress's chamberlain invited him to her majesty. The archduchess, too, wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds he was trying to collect his ideas. The Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him away to a window, and began to talk to him.

Contrary to Bilibin's prognostications, the news he brought was received with rejoicing. A thanksgiving service was arranged. Kutuzov was decorated with the great cross of Maria Theresa, and rewards were bestowed on the whole army. Bolkonsky received invitations on all hands, and had to spend the whole morning paying visits to the principal personages in the Austrian Government. After paying his visits, Prince Andrey, at five o'clock in the evening, was returning homewards to Bilibin's, mentally composing a letter to his father about the battle and his reception at Br?nn. At the steps of Bilibin's house stood a cart packed half full of things, and Franz, Bilibin's servant, came out of the doorway, with difficulty dragging a travelling-trunk.

Before going back to Bilibin's Prince Andrey had driven to a book-seller's to lay in a stock of books for the campaign, and had spent some time in the shop.

“What is it?” asked Bolkonsky.

“Ah, your excellency!” said Franz, with some exertion rolling the trunk on the cart. “We are to move on still farther. The scoundrel is already at our heels again!”

“Eh? what?” queried Prince Andrey.

Bilibin came out to meet Bolkonsky. His ordinarily composed face looked excited.

“No, no, confess that this is charming,” he said, “this story of the bridge of Tabor. They have crossed it without striking a blow.”

Prince Andrey could not understand.

“Why, where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town knows by now?”

“I come from the archduchess. I heard nothing there.”

“And didn't you see that people are packing up everywhere?”

“I have seen nothing … But what's the matter?” Prince Andrey asked impatiently.

“What's the matter? The matter is that the French have crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defending, and they haven't blown up the bridge, so that Murat is at this moment running along the road to Br?nn, and to-day or to-morrow they'll be here.”

“Here? But how is it the bridge wasn't blown up, since it was mined?”

“Why, that's what I ask you. No one—not Bonaparte himself—can tell why.” Bolkonsky shrugged his shoulders.

“But if they have crossed the bridge, then it will be all over with the army; it will be cut off,” he said.

“That's the whole point,” answered Bilibin. “Listen. The French enter Vienna, as I told you. Everything is satisfactory. Next day, that is yesterday, Messieurs les Maréchaux, Murat, Lannes, and Beliard get on their horses and ride off to the bridge. (Remark that all three are Gascons.) ‘Gentlemen,' says one, ‘you know that the Tabor bridge has been mined and countermined, and is protected by a formidable fortification and fifteen thousand troops, who have orders to blow up the bridge and not to let us pass. But our gracious Emperor Napoleon will be pleased if we take the bridge. Let us go us there and take it.' ‘Yes, let us go,' say the others; and they start off and take the bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army on this side of the Danube, they are coming straight upon us, and upon you and your communications.”

“Leave off jesting,” said Prince Andrey, with mournful seriousness. The news grieved Prince Andrey, and yet it gave him pleasure. As soon as he heard that the Russian army was in such a hopeless position, the idea struck him that he was the very man destined to extricate the Russian army from that position, and that it had come—the Toulon—that would lift him for ever from out of the ranks of unknown officers, and open the first path to glory for him! As he listened to Bilibin, he was already considering how, on reaching the army, he would, at a council of war, give the opinion that alone could save the army, and how he would be entrusted alone to execute the plan.

“Leave off joking,” he said.

“I'm not joking,” Bilibin went on. “Nothing could be more truthful or more melancholy. These three gentlemen advance to the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they declare that it's a truce, and that they, the marshals, are come for a parley with Prince Auersperg. The officer on duty lets them into the tête du pont. They tell him a thousand Gascon absurdities; say that the war is over, that Emperor Francis has arranged a meeting with Bonaparte, that they desire to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg. These Gascon gentlemen embrace the officers, make jokes, and sit about on the cannons, while a French battalion meantime advances unnoticed on the bridge, flings the sacks of inflammable material into the river, and marches up to the tête du pont. Finally the lieutenant-general himself appears, our dear Prince Auersperg von Mautern. ‘My dear enemy! Flower of Austrian chivalry! hero of the Turkish war! Hostility is at end, we can take each other's hands … the Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience to make the acquaintance of Prince Auersperg.' In a word, these gentlemen—not Gascons for nothing—so bewilder Auersperg with fair words—he is so flattered at this speedy intimacy with French marshals, so dazzled by the spectacle of their cloaks, and of the ostrich feathers of Murat—that their fire gets into his eyes and makes him forget that he ought to be firing on the enemy” (in spite of the interest of his story, Bilibin did not omit to pause after this mot, to give time for its appreciation). “A French battalion runs into the tête du pont, spikes the cannons, and the bridge is taken. No, but really the best part of the whole episode,” he went on, his excitement subsiding under the interest of his own story, “is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal for firing the mines and blowing up the bridge, this sergeant seeing the French troops running on to the bridge wanted to fire, but Lannes pulled his arm away. The sergeant, who seems to have been sharper than his general, goes up to Auersperg and says: ‘Prince, they're deceiving you, here are the French!' Murat sees the game is up if he lets the sergeant have his say. With an affectation of surprise (a true Gascon!) he addresses Auersperg: ‘Is this the Austrian discipline so highly extolled all over the world,' says he, ‘do you let a man of low rank speak to you like this?' It was a stroke of genius. The Prince of Auersperg is touched in his honour and has the sergeant put under arrest. No, but confess that all this story of the bridge of Tabor is charming. It is neither stupidity, nor cowardice …”

“It is treason, perhaps,” said Prince Andrey, vividly picturing to himself grey overcoats, wounds, the smoke and sound of firing, and the glory awaiting him.

“Not that either. This puts the court into a pretty pickle,” pursued Bilibin. “It is not treason, nor cowardice, nor stupidity; it is just as it was at Ulm …” He seemed to ponder, seeking the phrase, “it is … c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackés,” he said, feeling he was uttering un mot, and a fresh one, one that would be repeated. His creased-up brows let the puckers smooth out quickly in sign of satisfaction, and with a faint smile he fell to scrutinizing his finger-nails.

“Where are you off to?” he said, suddenly turning to Prince Andrey, who had got up and was going to his room.

“I must start.”

“Where to?”

“To the army.”

“But you meant to stay another two days?”

“But now I am going at once”; and Prince Andrey, after a few words arranging about his journey, went to his room.

“Do you know, my dear boy,” said Bilibin, coming into his room, “I have been thinking about you. What are you going for?” And in support of the irrefutability of his arguments on the subject, all the creases ran off his face.

Prince Andrey looked inquiringly at him and made no reply.

“Why are you going? I know you consider that it's your duty to gallop off to the army now that the army is in danger. I understand that, my boy, it's heroism.”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Prince Andrey.

“But you are un philosophe, be one fully, look at things from the other side, and you will see that it is your duty, on the contrary, to take care of yourself. Leave that to others who are no good for anything else … You have received no orders to go back, and you are not dismissed from here, so that you can remain and go with us, where our ill-luck takes us. They say they are going to Olm?tz. And Olm?tz is a very charming town. And we can travel there comfortably together in my carriage.”

“That's enough joking, Bilibin,” said Bolkonsky.

“I am speaking to you sincerely as a friend. Consider where are you going and with what object now, when you can stay here. You have two alternatives before you” (he puckered up the skin of his left temple) “either you won't reach the army before peace will be concluded, or you will share the defeat and disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army.” And Bilibin let his brow go smooth again, feeling that his dilemma was beyond attack.

“That I can't enter into,” said Prince Andrey coldly, but he thought: “I am going to save the army.”

“My dear fellow, you are a hero,” said Bilibin


翌日,他醒来得很迟。重温着往日的印象,首先想到今日要朝拜弗朗茨皇帝,想起军政大臣、恭恭敬敬的侍从武官、比利宾和昨日夜晚的闲谈。他要去朝拜,便穿上一套许久未穿的检阅服装,精神焕发,兴致勃勃,姿态亦优美,一只手绑着绷带,走进比利宾的书斋。书斋里有四个外交使团的绅士模样的人。博尔孔斯基认识公使馆的秘书伊波利特·库拉金公爵,比利宾介绍其余三个人和他相识。

经常到比利宾这里来的绅士派头的人都是一些年轻、家境富裕、快活的上层社会人士,他们无论在维也纳,还是在此地都结成一个独立的团体,这个团体的头头比利宾把它称为自己人(lesnotres)。这个几乎主要是由外交官构成的团体,看来有自己所固有的与战争和政治毫无关系的兴趣,这个团体对上层社会、对一些女士的态度和公务很感兴趣。看起来,这些有绅士派头的人都乐意吸收安德烈公爵加入他们的团体,认为他是自己人(他们对少数几个人表示尊敬)。因为人们尊敬他,才向他提出几个有关军队和战役的问题,以此作为话题。随即又闲谈起来,话里头夹杂着许多乱七八糟的笑话,而且议论他人的长短。

“不过这是件特别好的事,”有个人讲到外交官中一个同僚的失败时,说道,“其所以是件特别好的事,是因为奥国首相坦率地告诉他:他去伦敦上任是一种晋升,要他能这样看待这件事。你们能臆想得出他这时的模样吗?……”

“诸君,不过最糟的是,我要向你们揭发库拉金;有个人处于逆境,他这个唐璜却借机滋事。这个人多么可怕啊!”

伊波利特公爵躺在一把伏尔泰椅上,一双脚跷在扶手上,大笑起来。

“Parlez—moideca,”①他说道。

①法语:喂,您讲讲吧,喂,您讲讲吧。

②法语:女人是男人的伴侣。


“啊,唐璜!啊!一条毒蛇。”听见几个人异口同声地说。

“博尔孔斯基,您不知道,”比利宾把脸转向安德烈公爵说道,“法国军队的诸多可怖(我险些儿说成俄国军队)比起这个人在女人中间干的勾当来是算不了一回事的。”

“Lafemmeestlacompagnedel'homme,”②伊波利特公爵说道,开始戴上单目眼镜观看他那双架起来的脚。

比利宾和自己人注视伊波利特的眼睛时哈哈大笑起来。安德烈公爵看到,这个伊波利特是这个团体的丑角,他(应当承认)几乎因为伊波利特和妻子相好而感到醋意。

“不,我要请您品味一下库拉金,”比利宾对博尔孔斯基轻声地说,“他议论政治时很会盅惑人心,要看看这副傲慢的样子。”

他在伊波利特近旁坐下来,皱起额头,和他谈论有关政治的问题。安德烈公爵和其他人都站在他们二人周围。

“LecabinetdeBerlinnepeutpasexprimerunsentiB

mentd'alliance,”伊波利特意味深长地环顾众人,开始发言,“sansexprimer…commedanssadernierenote…vouscomprenez…vouscomprenez…etpuissisaMajestél'empereurnedérogepasauprincipedenotrealliance…”①

“Attendez,jen'aipasfini…”他一把抓住安德烈公爵的手,说道,“jesupposequel'interventionseraplusfortequelanon—intervention,Et…”他沉默片刻,“Onnepourrapasimputeràlafindenon-recevoirnotredépêchedu28novembreVoilàcom-menttoutcelafinira.”②他松开博尔孔斯基的手,以此表示,他的话讲完了。“Demosthènes,jetereconnaisaucaillouquetuascachédanstabouched'or!”③

比利宾说道,他高兴得一头的头发都散开了。

大家都笑了起来。伊波利特的笑声最响亮。看起来,他气喘吁吁,觉得不好受,但是他没法忍住,发出一阵狂笑,好像拉长了他那一向显得呆板的面孔似的。

“喂,诸位,原来是这么回事,”比利宾说道,“无论在这栋屋里,还是在布吕恩,博尔孔斯基总是我的客人,我要尽可能让他饱尝一番本地生活上的乐趣。如果在维也纳,那是容易办到的事。可是在这里,danscevilaintroumorave④,就更难办了,因此,我向你们大家求援。ⅡfautluifaiveleshonBneursdeBrtinn,⑤看戏的事由你们负责,社团的事由我承担,伊波利特,不消说,应酬女人的事由您主持好了。”

①法语:柏林内阁不能表示它对联盟的意见,在最近的照会中……没有表示……其实,你们明白,你们明白……如果皇帝陛下不改变我们联盟的实质……

②法语:等一等,我还没有讲完……我想,干涉比不干涉更稳妥。而且,……


不可能认为,问题就在于完全不接受我方十一月二十八日的紧急报告……其结局必将是这样的。

③法语:德摩西尼,我凭你放在你那金口中的石头就能把你认出来。

④法语:在这令人厌恶的摩拉维亚山洞中。

⑤法语:就应当请他饱尝一番布吕恩的风味。


“应当请他瞧瞧阿梅莉,真是美不胜言!”一个自己人吻着自己的指头尖,说道。

“总而言之,应当让这个嗜血成性的士兵倾向仁爱的观点。”比利宾说道。

“诸位,我未必能够享受你们的款待,我现在应该走了。”

博尔孔斯基看着表,说道。

“上哪里去呢?”

“去朝拜皇帝。”

“啊,啊!啊!”

“嗬!博尔孔斯基,再见!公爵,再见!早点回来用午餐,”

可以听见几个人异口同声地说,“我们来应付您了。”

“当您和皇帝谈话时,请尽量夸奖军粮供应的措施和适宜的行进路线的分布。”比利宾把博尔孔斯基送到接待室时,说道。

“我心里本想,知道多少就夸奖多少,可是办不到。”博尔孔斯基面露微笑,答道。

“嗯,总之要尽量多说点。他很喜欢接见人,可是他本人不喜欢讲话,也不善于讲话,以后您会知道的。”



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