Book 10 Chapter 18

WHEN PIERRE returned home, he was handed two new placards of Rastoptchin's that had just appeared.

The first declared that the rumour, that it was forbidden to leave Moscow by Count Rastoptchin's order, was false, and that, on the contrary, he was glad that ladies and merchants' wives were leaving the town. “There will be less panic and less false news,” said the notice; “but I will stake my life on it that the miscreant will never enter Moscow.”

These words first showed Pierre clearly that the French certainly would enter Moscow. In the second placard it was announced that our headquarters were at Vyazma, that Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that since many of the inhabitants of Moscow were desirous of arming themselves, weapons had been provided to meet their wishes in the arsenal; swords, pistols, and guns could all be procured there at a low rate.

The tone of this notice was not as jocose as the former supposed discourses of Tchigirin. The two placards made Pierre ponder. It was evident to him that the menacing storm cloud, for the advent of which his whole soul longed, though it roused an involuntary thrill of horror, it was evident that that cloud was coming closer.

“Shall I enter the service and join the army or wait here?” Pierre thought, a question he had put to himself a hundred times already. He took up a pack of cards that lay on the table to deal them for a game of patience.

“If I succeed in this game of patience,” he said to himself, shuffling the pack as he held it in his hand and looked upwards; “if I succeed, it means … what does it mean?” … He had not time to decide this question when he heard at the door of his study the voice of the eldest princess, asking whether she might come in. “Then it will mean that I must set off to join the army,” Pierre told himself. “Come, come in,” he said to the princess.

The eldest of his cousins, the one with the long waist and the stony face, was the only one still living in Pierre's house; the two younger sisters had both married.

“Excuse my coming to you, cousin,” she said in a tone of reproach and excitement. “Some decision really must be come to, you know. What is going to happen? Every one has left Moscow, and the populace are becoming unruly. Why are we staying on?”

“On the contrary, everything seems going on satisfactorily, ma cousine,” said Pierre in the habitually playful tone he had adopted with his cousin, to carry off the embarrassment he always felt at being in the position of a benefactor to her.

“Oh, yes, satisfactorily … highly satisfactory, I dare say. Varvara Ivanovna told me to-day how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It is certainly a credit to them. And the populace, too, is in complete revolt, they won't obey any one now; even my maid has begun to be insolent. If it goes on like this, they will soon begin killing us. One can't walk about the streets. And the worst of it is, in another day or two the French will be here. Why are we waiting for them? One favour I beg of you, mon cousin,” said the princess, “give orders for me to be taken to Petersburg; whatever I may be, any way I can't live under Bonaparte's rule.”

“But what nonsense, ma cousine! where do you get your information from? On the contrary …”

“I'm not going to submit to your Napoleon. Other people may do as they like.… If you won't do this for me …”

“But I will, I'll give orders for it at once.”

The princess was obviously annoyed at having no one to be angry with. Muttering something, she sat down on the edge of the chair.

“But you have been incorrectly informed,” said Pierre. “All's quiet in the town, and there's no sort of danger. See I have just read …” Pierre showed the princess the placards. “The count writes that he will stake his life on it that the enemy will never be in Moscow.”

“Ah, your count,” the princess began spitefully, “he's a hypocrite, a miscreant who has himself stirred the mob on to disorder. Didn't he write in his idiotic placards that they were to take anybody whoever it might be and drag by the hair to the lock-up (and how silly it is!). Honour our and glory, says he, to the man who does so. And this is what he has brought us to. Varvara Ivanovna told me the mob almost killed her for speaking French.”

“Oh, well, well … You take everything too much to heart,” said Pierre, and he began dealing out the patience.

Although he did succeed in the game, Pierre did not set off to join the army, but stayed on in Moscow, now rapidly emptying, and was still in the same agitation, uncertainty and alarm, and, at the same time, joyful expectation of something awful.

Next day the princess set off in the evening, and Pierre's head-steward came to inform him that it was impossible to raise the money he required for the equipment of his regiment unless he sold one of his estates. The head-steward impressed on Pierre generally that all this regimental craze would infallibly bring him to ruin. Pierre could hardly conceal a smile as he listened to the head-steward.

“Well, sell it then,” he said. “There's no help for it, I can't draw back now!”

The worse the position of affairs, and especially of his own affairs, the better pleased Pierre felt, and the more obvious it was to him that the catastrophe he expected was near at hand. Scarcely any of Pierre's acquaintances were left in the town. Julie had gone, Princess Marya had gone. Of his more intimate acquaintances the Rostovs were the only people left; but Pierre did not go to see them.

To divert his mind that day, Pierre drove out to the village of Vorontsovo, to look at a great air balloon which was being constructed by Leppich to use against the enemy, and the test balloon which was to be sent up the following day. The balloon was not yet ready; but as Pierre learned, it was being constructed by the Tsar's desire. The Tsar had written to Count Rastoptchin about it in the following terms:

“As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew for his car consisting of thoroughly trustworthy and intelligent men, and send a courier to General Kutuzov to prepare him for it. I have mentioned it to him. Impress upon Leppich, please, to take careful note where he descends the first time, that he may not go astray and fall into the hands of the enemy. It is essential that he should regulate his movements in accordance with the movements of the commander-in-chief.”

On his way home from Vorontsovo, Pierre drove through Bolotny Square, and seeing a crowd at Lobnoye Place, stopped and got out of his chaise. The crowd were watching the flogging of a French cook, accused of being a spy. The flogging was just over, and the man who had administered it was untying from the whipping-post a stout, red-whiskered man in blue stockings and a green tunic, who was groaning piteously. Another victim, a thin, pale man, was standing by. Both, to judge by their faces, were Frenchmen. With a face of sick dread like that of the thin Frenchman, Pierre pushed his way in among the crowd.

“What is it? Who are they? What for?” he kept asking. But the attention of the crowd—clerks, artisans, shopkeepers, peasants, women in pelisses and jackets—was so intently riveted on what was taking place on the Lobnoye Place that no one answered. The stout man got up, shrugged his shoulders frowning, and evidently trying to show fortitude, began putting on his tunic without looking about him. But all at once his lips quivered and to his own rage he began to cry, as grown-up men of sanguine temperament do cry. The crowd began talking loudly, to drown a feeling of pity in themselves, as it seemed to Pierre.

“Some prince's cook. …”

“Eh, monsieur, Russian sauce is a bit strong for a French stomach … sets the teeth on edge,” said a wrinkled clerk standing near Pierre, just when the Frenchman burst into tears. The clerk looked about him for signs of appreciation of his jest. Several persons laughed, but some were still gazing in dismay at the man who was undressing the second Frenchman and about to flog him.

Pierre choked, scowled, and turning quickly, went back to his chaise, still muttering something to himself as he went, and took his seat in it. During the rest of the way he several times started, and cried out so loudly that the coachman at last asked him what he desired.

“Where are you driving?” Pierre shouted to the coachman as he drove to Lubyanka.

“You told me to drive to the governor's,” answered the coachman.

“Fool! dolt!” shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman, a thing he very rarely did. “I told you home; and make haste, blockhead! This very day I must set off,” Pierre said to himself.

At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd round the Lobnoye Place, Pierre had so unhesitatingly decided that he could stay no longer in Moscow, and must that very day set off to join the army, that it seemed to him either that he had told the coachman so, or that the coachman ought to know it of himself.

On reaching home Pierre told his omniscient and omnipotent head-coachman, Yevstafitch, who was known to all Moscow, that he was going to drive that night to Mozhaisk to the army, and gave orders for his saddle horses to be sent on there. All this could not be arranged in one day, and therefore by Yevstafitch's representations Pierre was induced to defer his departure till next day to allow time for relays of horses to be sent on ahead.

The 24th was a bright day after a spell of bad weather, and after dinner on that day Pierre set out from Moscow. Changing horses in the night at Perhushkovo, Pierre learned that a great battle had been fought that evening. He was told that the earth had been vibrating there at Perhushkovo from the cannon. No one could answer Pierre's question whether the battle was a victory or a defeat. This was the battle of the 24th at Shevardino. Towards dawn Pierre approached Mozhaisk.

Troops were quartered in all the houses in Mozhaisk, and at the inn, where Pierre was met by his coachman and postillion, there was not a room to spare; the whole place was full of officers.

From Mozhaisk onwards troops were halting or marching everywhere. Cossacks, foot soldiers, horse soldiers, waggons, gun-carriages, and cannons were everywhere.

Pierre pushed on as fast as possible, and the further he got and the more deeply he plunged into this ocean of soldiers, the stronger became the thrill of uneasiness and of a new pleasurable sensation. It was a feeling akin to what he had felt at the Slobodsky Palace on the Tsar's visit, a sense of the urgent necessity of taking some step and making some sacrifice. He was conscious now of a glad sense that all that constitutes the happiness of life, comfort, wealth, even life itself, were all dust and ashes, which it was a joy to fling away in comparison with something else. … What that something else was Pierre could not have said, and indeed he did not seek to get a clear idea, for whose sake and for what object he found such peculiar joy in sacrificing all. He was not interested in knowing the object of the sacrifice, but the sacrifice itself afforded him a new joyful sensation.

皮埃尔回到家里，仆人交给他当天取来的两张拉斯托普钦的传单。

第一张传单说，谣传拉斯托普钦伯爵禁止人们离开莫斯科——不真实。与之相反，太太小姐和商人的妻子离开莫斯科，使拉斯托普钦伯爵感到高兴。“可以少点恐惧，少点传闻，”传单上说，“但是我以生命担保，那个凶手决到不了莫斯科。”这句话使皮埃尔第一次清楚地看出，法国人一定要到莫斯科。第二份传单是说我们的大本营在维亚济吗，维特根施泰因伯爵打败了法国人，因为许多居民愿意武装起来，所以武器库为他们准备了武器：军刀、手枪、长枪。这些武器将廉价地卖给他们。传单的口吻已不像原先在奇吉林谈话中那样诙谐了。面对这些传单，皮埃尔沉思起来。显然一场可怕的、孕育着暴风雨的乌云——他曾经以全部灵魂的力量呼唤，同时使他不由自主地恐惧的乌云，已经临近了。

“我是去参军，到部队去呢，还是再等一等？”他第一百次向自己提出这个问题。他从桌上拿起一副牌，开始摆起纸牌卦来。

“假如卦猜开了，”他洗好牌，把牌拿在手里，眼睛往上望着，自言自语道：“假如成功，那就是说……说什么呢？”他还未来得及决定应该说什么的时候，书斋门外传来大公爵小姐的声音，她问可不可以进来。

“那就是说，我应该去参军。”他对自己说。“进来，进来。”

他把脸转向公爵小姐，补充说。

（只有这个最大的公爵小姐，就是那个腰肢长长的，面孔板板的公爵小姐，还住在皮埃尔家里，另外两个小的都出嫁了。）

“请原谅，mon　cousine①，我来找您。”她用责备的、激动的口气说。“终究要想个办法才行！老是这样算怎么回事呀？大家都离开莫斯科了，老百姓在闹事。我们留下来作什么呀？”

①法语：表弟。

“正好相反，看来一切顺利，ma　cousine①，”皮埃尔带着开玩笑的语气说，皮埃尔对充当她的恩人这个角色，总觉得过意不去，所以习惯用这种态度跟她说话。

①法语：表姐。

“可不是嘛，一切顺利……好一个顺顺利利！瓦尔瓦拉·伊万诺夫娜今天对我讲，我们的军队打得如何好。这确实很光荣。可老百姓却完全反了，他们不肯听话。连我的使女也变野了。照这样下去，她们不久就要打我们了。简直不敢上街。要紧的是，法国人说不定哪天就打来了，我们还等什么！我只求您一件事，mon　cousin，”公爵小姐说，“请吩咐人把我送到彼得堡去吧：不管怎么样，反正我在波拿巴统治下没法儿活。”

“得了，ma　cousine，您从哪儿听来的这些消息？相反……”

“我决不做您的拿破仑的顺民。别人爱怎样就怎样……如果您不愿意这样办……”

“我来办，我来办，我马上就吩咐他们。”

看来，公爵小姐因为没有人可供她发脾气而懊恼了，她喃喃自语地在椅子上坐下。

“不过，您听到的消息不可靠，城里到处都很平静，什么危险也没有。您看，我刚读过……”皮埃尔把传单给公爵小姐看。“伯爵这样写的，他要用生命担保，决不让敌人进入莫斯科。”

“唉呀，您的那位伯爵，”公爵小姐恼恨地说，“他是个伪君子，坏蛋，是他亲自撺掇老百姓闹事的。他不是在那些荒谬的传单上写过吗？不管是谁，抓住他的头发就往拘留所送（多么愚蠢）！他还说，是谁抓住的，荣誉就归谁。他就是这样献殷勤的。瓦尔瓦拉·伊万诺夫娜说，因为她开始说起法国话来，老百姓就差一点没把她打死……”

“就是那么一回事……您把一切太放在心上了。”皮埃尔说，开始摆他的纸牌猜卦。

虽然既牌卦摆通了，皮埃尔还是没到军队去，他留在莫斯科这座空城里，每时每刻都在惊慌、犹豫、恐惧，同时又喜悦地期待着什么事情的发生。

次日傍晚时分，公爵小姐走了。皮埃尔的总管来告诉他，说，若不卖掉一处庄子，就筹不出装备一个团所需要的费用。总之，总管向皮埃尔说明，建立一个团的主意，一定会使他破产。听着总管的话，皮埃尔忍不住要笑。

“那您就卖了吧，”他说，“没办法，我现在不能打退堂鼓！”

情况变得越糟，特别是他的家业越糟，皮埃尔就越高兴，他所期待的灾难的临近也就越明显。城里几乎没有皮埃尔的熟人了。朱莉走了，玛丽亚公爵小姐走了。亲近些的熟人中，只有罗斯托夫一家没走，但皮埃尔不常到他们那里去。

这天，皮埃尔出门散心，走到沃罗佐沃村去看列比赫制造的用来歼求敌人的大气球。一只实验用的气球要在第二天升上天空，这只气球还没做好，皮埃尔听说，气球是遵照国王的旨意制造的。为此，国王曾给拉斯托普钦写了如下一封信：

“AussitoAt　que　Leppich　sera　prêt，composez　lui　un　équipage　pour　sa　nacelle　d'hommes　suArs　et　intelligents　et　dépêchez　un　cour－rier　au　général　Koutousoff　pour　l'en　prévenir．Je　l'ai　instruit　de　la　chose．

Recommandez，je　vous　prie，a　Leppich　d'être　bien　attentif　sur　l'endroit　où　il　descendra　la　première　fois，pour　ne　pas　se　tromp－er　et　ne　pas　tomber　dans　les　mains　de　l'ennemi．Il　est　indispensible　qu'li　combine　ses　mouvements　avec　cle　général—en　chef．”①

①法语：一旦列比赫准备完毕，您就组织一批机智可靠的人作吊篮的乘员，并派一名信使到库图佐夫那里去关照他。此事我已通知他了。

在从沃罗佐沃村回家的途中，经过沼泽广场时，皮埃尔看见断头台那儿有一群人，他停下来，下了车。这是一个被指控为特务的法国厨子在受鞭刑。鞭刑完后，行刑手从行刑登上解下一个穿蓝裤子、绿坎肩、可怜地呻吟着的有一脸红胡子的胖子。另一个面色苍白、身体瘦削的罪犯站在旁边。从脸型看，两个人都是法国人。皮埃尔挤进人群，他那神情很像那个瘦削的法国人，惊慌而且痛苦。

请嘱咐列比赫，对第一次降落的地点要特别小心，不要误落到敌人手中。务必叫他多多考虑他的活动与总司令的活动之紧密配合。

“这是怎么回事？是什么人？为了什么？”他问。但是那群人（其中有官吏、小市民、商人、农民、穿肥大外衣和短皮外套的妇女）的注意力完全集中在宣谕台上，没有人答话。那个胖子站起来，紧锁着眉头，大概是要显示一下自己的坚强吧，他耸耸肩、不向周围看，把坎肩穿上，可突然，他的嘴唇开始颤抖起来，自己生着自己的气，像个易动感情的成年人似的哭了。人们大声谈起话来，皮埃尔觉得，他们这样做只是为了抑制自己的怜悯。

“他是某公爵的厨子……”

“怎么样，先生？看来俄国的酱油到法国人嘴里就变成醋了……酸得龇牙咧嘴的。”一个站在皮埃尔旁边的满脸皱纹的小职员在法国人刚开始哭时说。然后，他看看四周，似乎是在等着别人赞扬他说的笑话。有些人笑了，有些人仍然吃惊地望着给另一个罪犯脱衣服的行刑手。

皮埃尔哼了几声，皱着眉头，赶快转身回到马车旁，在他走着去坐车的时候，他不断地自言自语，在回家的途中有好几次浑身打战，大声地喊叫，以致车夫问他：

“您有什么吩咐吗？”

“你往哪儿走？”皮埃尔对正把马车赶往鲁比扬卡去的车夫喊道。

“您吩咐见总司令的。”

“糊涂虫！畜生！”皮埃尔喊起来，他很少这样骂他的车夫。“我说过要回家；快走，糊涂虫！我今天就得离开。”他自言自语，嘟哝着。

看到那个受刑的法国人和围着宣谕台的人群以后，皮埃尔最后决定，再也不能留在莫斯科了，他今天就要去参军，他似乎觉得，不是他已经这样吩咐过车夫，就是车夫自己应当知道这一点。

一回到家，皮埃尔就吩咐他那无所不知、无所不能、闻名全莫斯科的车夫叶夫斯塔菲耶维奇，把他的几匹鞍马送到莫扎伊斯克，他当夜就要到那儿去参军。这件事不可能当天就安排好，依叶夫斯塔菲耶维奇的意思，皮埃尔的行期得推迟到第二天，好有时间把替换的马赶到路上。

二十四日，阴雨过后，天转晴。午饭后皮埃尔离开莫斯科。当夜在佩尔胡什科夫换马的时候，皮埃尔听说那天傍晚打了一场大仗。人们都在讲，佩尔胡什科夫的地面都被炮声震得打颤。皮埃尔问谁打赢了。没有人能回答。（这是二十四日舍瓦尔金诺村战役。）翌日拂晓，皮埃尔到达莫扎伊斯克。

莫扎伊斯克所有的房屋都驻有士兵，皮埃尔的马夫和车夫都在这里的客店迎接他，客店已没有空房间了，都住满了军官。

莫扎伊斯克城里城外都有军队驻扎和通过。到处可以见到哥萨克、步兵、骑兵、大车、炮弹箱和大炮。皮埃尔急急忙忙向前赶路，他离莫斯科越远、越深入这士兵的海洋，就越感到焦急不安，同时有一种还没有体验过的新鲜的喜悦之情。这是一种类似他在斯洛博达宫当国王驾到时所体验的，一种必须做点什么或牺牲点什么的感觉。他现在愉快地感觉到，构成人们的幸福的一切——生活的舒适、财富，甚至生命本身，比起某种东西来，都是弃之为快的虚妄的东西……比起什么东西呢？皮埃尔弄不清楚，也不想极力去弄清楚为了何人，为了何事而牺牲一切才使他认为特别美好。他对自己为之而牺牲的东西并不感兴趣，只是牺牲本身对他来说是一种新鲜的、快乐的感觉。