AFTER THE UNCOMPROMISING REFUSAL he had received, Petya went to his own room, and there locking himself in, he wept bitterly. All his family behaved as though they noticed nothing when he came in to tea, silent and depressed1 with tear-stained eyes.
Next day, the Tsar arrived in Moscow. Several of the Rostovs' servants asked permission to go out to see the Tsar. That morning Petya spent a long time dressing2. He combed his hair and arranged his collar like a grown-up man. He screwed up his eyes before the looking-glass, gesticulated, shrugged3 his shoulders, and finally, without saying anything to any one, he put on his cap and went out of the house by the back way, trying to escape observation. Petya had resolved to go straight to where the Tsar was, and to explain frankly4 to some gentleman-in-waiting (Petya fancied that the Tsar was always surrounded by gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov, wished, in spite of his youth, to serve his country, that youth could be no hindrance5 to devotion, and that he was ready…Petya had, while he was dressing, prepared a great many fine speeches to make to the gentleman-in-waiting.
Petya reckoned on the success of his presentation to the Tsar simply because he was a child (Petya dreamed, indeed, of how they would wonder at his youth), and yet in his arrangement of his collar, and his hair, and in the sedate6, deliberate walk he adopted, he tried to act the part of an elderly man. But the further he went, the more interested he became in the growing crowds about the Kremlin, and he forgot to keep up the sedateness7 and deliberation characteristic of grown-up people. As he got closer to the Kremlin, he began to try to avoid being crushed, and with a resolute8 and threatening mien9, stuck elbows out on each side of him. But in spite of his determined10 air, in the Toistsky Gate the crowd, probably unaware11 of his patriotic12 object in going to the Kremlin, so pushed him against the wall, that he was obliged to submit and stand still, while carriages drove in with a rumbling13 sound under the archway. Near Petya stood a peasant woman, a footman, two merchants, and a discharged soldier. After standing14 for some time in the gateway15, Petya, not caring to wait for all the carriages to pass, tried to push on before the rest, and began resolutely16 working away with his elbows, but the peasant woman standing next him, who was the first person he poked17, shouted angrily to him:
“Why are you shoving away, little master? You see everybody's standing still. What do you want to push for?”
“What, if every one were to push then!” said the footman; and he too setting to work with his elbows shoved Petya into the stinking18 corner of the gateway.
Petya rubbed the sweat off his face with his hands, and set straight the soaking collar, that he had so carefully arranged at home like a grown-up person's.
Petya felt that he looked unpresentable, and was afraid that if he showed himself in this guise19 to the gentlemen-in-waiting, they would not admit him to the Tsar's presence. But the crush gave him no possibility of setting himself straight or getting into another place. One of the generals who rode by was an acquaintance of the Rostovs. Petya wanted to ask him for help, but considered this would be below his manly20 dignity. When all the carriages had driven by, the crowd made a rush, and swept Petya along with it into the square, which was already full of people. Not only in the square, but on the slopes, and the roofs, and everywhere there were crowds of people. As soon as Petya got into the square, he heard the ringing of bells and the joyous21 hum of the crowd filling the whole Kremlin.
For a while the crush was less in the square, but all at once all heads were bared, and there was another rush forward. Petya was so crushed that he could hardly breathe, and there was a continual shouting: “Hurrah22! hurrah! hurrah!”
Petya tip-toed, pushed, and pinched, but he could see nothing but the crowd around him.
All the faces wore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. A shopkeeper's wife standing near Petya sobbed23, and tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Father, angel!” she kept saying, wiping her tears with her fingers.
“Hurrah!” shouted the crowd on all sides.
For a minute the crowd remained stationary24; then there was another rush forward.
Petya, beside himself with excitement, clenched25 his teeth, and rolling his eyes savagely27, rushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting “Hurrah!” as though he were prepared to kill himself and every one else at that moment, but just as savage26 faces pushed on each side of him with the same shouts of “hurrah!”
“So this is the Tsar!” thought Petya. “No, I could never give him the petition myself, it would be too bold!”
In spite of that, he still forced his way forward as desperately28, and over the backs of those in front of him caught a glimpse of open space with a passage covered with red cloth in the midst of it. But at that moment the crowd began heaving back; the police in front were forcing back those who had pressed too close to the procession. The Tsar was passing from the palace to the Uspensky Sobor. Petya received such a sudden blow in the ribs29, and was so squeezed, that all at once a mist passed before his eyes, and he lost consciousness. When he came to himself, a clerical personage, with a mane of grey hair on his shoulders, in a shabby blue cassock—probably a deacon—was holding him up with one arm, while with the other he kept off the crowd.
“A young gentleman's been crushed!” the deacon was saying, “Mind what you're about!…easy there!…you're crushing him, you're crushing him!”
The Tsar had entered the Uspensky Sobor. The crowd spread out again, and the deacon got Petya pale and breathless on to the big cannon30. Several persons pitied Petya; and suddenly quite a crowd noticed his plight31, and began to press round him. Those who were standing near him looked after him, unbuttoned his coat, sat him on the highest part of the cannon, and scolded those who were squeezing too close to him.
“Any one may be crushed to death like that. What next! Killing32 people! Why, the poor dear's as white as a sheet,” said voices.
Petya soon recovered, and the colour came back into his face; the pain was over, and by this temporary inconvenience he had gained a seat on the cannon, from which he hoped to see the Tsar, who was to walk back. Petya thought no more now of presenting his petition. If only he could see him, he would think himself lucky! During the service in the Uspensky Sobor, in celebration of the Tsar's arrival, and also in thanks-giving for the peace with the Turks, the crowd dispersed33 about the square, and hawkers appeared crying kvass, gingerbread, and poppy-seed sweets—of which Petya was particularly fond—and he could hear the usual talk among the people. One shopkeeper's wife was showing her torn shawl, and saying how much she had paid for it; while another observed that all silk things were very dear nowadays. The deacon who had rescued Petya was talking to a clerk of the different priests who were taking part in the service to-day with the most reverend bishop35. The deacon several times repeated the word “soborne,” which Petya did not understand. Two young artisans were joking with some servant-girls, cracking nuts. All these conversations, especially the jokes with the servant-girls—which would have seemed particularly attractive at his age to Petya—did not interest him now. He sat on his high perch36 on the cannon, still in the same excitement at the thought of the Tsar and his love for him. The blending of the feeling of pain and fright when he was crushed with the feeling of enthusiasm intensified37 his sense of the gravity of the occasion.
Suddenly cannon shots were heard from the embankment—the firing was in celebration of the peace with the Turks—and the crowd made a dash for the embankment to see the firing. Petya, too, would have liked to run there, but the deacon, who had taken the young gentleman under his protection, would not let him. The firing still continued, when officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting came running out of the Uspensky Sobor. Then others came out with less haste, and again caps were lifted, and those who had run to look at the cannons38 ran back. At last four men in uniforms and decorations came out from the doors of the Sobor. “Hurrah! hurrah!” the crowd shouted again.
“Which? which one?” Petya asked in a weeping voice of those around him, but no one answered him. Every one was too much excited, and Petya, picking out one of the four, and hardly able to see him for the tears that started into his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on him, though it happened not to be the Tsar. He shouted “Hurrah!” in a voice of frenzy39, and resolved that to-morrow, come what might of it, he would join the army. The crowd ran after the Tsar, accompanied him to the palace, and began to disperse34. It was late, and Petya had had nothing to eat, and the sweat was dripping from his face. But he did not go home. He remained with a smaller, though still considerable, crowd before the palace during the Tsar's dinner-time. He gazed up at the palace windows, expecting something to happen, and envying equally the grand personages who drove up to the entrance to dine with the Tsar, and the footmen waiting at table, of whom he caught glimpses at the window.
At the Tsar's dinner, Valuev said, looking out of the window:
“The people are still hoping to get a sight of your majesty40.”
The dinner was almost over, the Tsar got up, and still munching41 a biscuit, came out on the balcony. The crowd, with Petya in the midst, rushed towards the balcony.
“Angel, father! Hurrah!” …shouted the crowd, and with it Petya. And again women, and, in a less degree some men—among them Petya—shed tears of happiness.
A good sized piece of the biscuit in the Tsar's hand broke off, fell on the balcony railing, and from the railing to the ground. A coachman in a jerkin, who stood nearest, pounced42 on the piece of biscuit and snatched it up. Several persons rushed at the coachman. Noticing this the Tsar asked for a plate of biscuits, and began dropping them from the balcony. Petya's eyes almost started out of his head; the danger of being crushed excited him more than ever, and he rushed at the biscuits. He did not know why, but he felt he must have a biscuit from the Tsar's hands, and he must not give in. He made a dash and upset an old woman, who was just about to seize a biscuit. But the old woman refused to consider herself beaten, though she was on the ground; she snatched at the biscuits on her hands and knees. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee, snatched up a biscuit, and as though afraid of being late, hastily shouted again, “Hurrah!” in a hoarse43 voice.
The Tsar went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd dispersed.
“There, I said if only we waited—and so it was,” was the delighted comment on various sides in the crowd.
Happy as Petya was, he felt sad to go home, and to feel that all the enjoyment44 of that day was over. From the Kremlin, Petya went not home, but to his comrade Obolensky's. He was fifteen, and he, too, was going into the army. On getting home, Petya announced with decision and firmness that if they would not let him do so too, he would run away. And next day, though Count Ilya Andreitch had not quite yielded, he went to inquire if a commission could be obtained for Petya somewhere where there would be little danger.
遭到坚决的拒绝之后，彼佳回到自己的房间，锁上门，在那里避开所有的人，伤心地哭了。当他去喝茶时，不言不语，眼睛都哭红了，大家装着没看见。
第二天，皇帝驾到。几个罗斯托夫家的家仆请假去观看皇帝的驾临。这天清晨，彼佳穿戴了很久，梳洗，硬把衣服弄得与大人们一样。他对着镜子皱着眉头，搔首弄姿，耸着肩膀，最后未给任何人打招呼，戴上帽子，尽量不让人看见，他从后门出去了。彼佳决定直接去皇帝下塌的地方，直接向某个侍从（彼佳认为皇帝周围总有许多侍从）陈述，他罗斯托夫伯爵，尽管还年幼，愿意为祖国服务，年幼不应该成为效忠祖国的障碍，他准备着……彼佳在预备出门的工夫，想好了许多他要对侍从说的动听的话。
彼佳估计自己向皇帝自荐能成功就是因为他是一个孩子。（彼佳甚至想象大家为他的年幼而多么惊奇）。与此同时，他理理硬硬的衣领、头发，步伐庄重而从容，把自己装成一个老年人。但是，他越往前走，越来越被聚集在克里姆林宫的越来越多的人群所吸引，就越忘记遵守一个大人应有的庄重派头。走近克里姆林宫时，他已开始关心他会不会被人们挤伤，他两手叉腰，摆出坚决威严的姿态。但是在三座门里，不管他多么果敢，人们大概不知道他去克里姆林宫抱着多大的爱国热枕，硬是把他挤到墙上，当马车隆隆驶过拱门时，他不得不屈服，只好停住了。彼佳旁边有一位带着一个仆役的农妇，两个商人和一名退伍的士兵。彼佳不等所有的马车过完，就抢先挤过去，用臂肘推搡起来，站在他对面的那个农妇，首当其冲，她气愤地喝斥他：
“你瞎挤什么，小少爷？没看见大家都站着没动。挤着什么劲呀？”
“大家都来挤吧！”那仆役说，也开始用他的臂肘碰人，把彼佳挤到了门边一个臭烘烘的角落里。
彼佳用手擦擦满脸的汗水，整整汗湿的衣领，这领子他在家里弄得像大人的一样好。
彼佳觉得他的外表不太体面，担心现在这样出现在侍从面前，他们会不让他去见皇上。但是，太拥挤了，要修饰一番，或者换个地方，又完全不可能。在路过的将军中有一位是罗斯托夫家的熟人。彼佳想求他帮忙，但他又认为这与勇敢精神不相称。当马车全部都过完的时候，人群如潮涌般把彼佳带到人山人海的广场上。不仅广场上，而且斜坡上，屋顶上，都挤满了人。彼佳刚到广场上，整个克里姆林宫的钟声和人们欢快地谈笑声就清清楚楚地传进耳朵里。
有一阵子广场比较宽松，可是突然间，人们脱下帽子，一直向前冲去。彼佳被挤得喘不过气来，大家都在高呼：“乌拉！乌拉！乌拉！”彼佳踮起脚尖，被人推挤，但是除了周围的人群，他什么也看不见。
所里人的表情都显得非常感动和兴奋，一个站在彼佳身旁的女商贩号啕大哭，泪流满面。
“父亲，天使，老天啊！”她边说，边用手指抹眼泪。
“乌拉！”四面八方的人们都在呼喊。
人群在一个地方停了一会儿，然后又向前涌去。
彼佳简直忘了一切，咬紧牙关，把眼睛瞪得像野兽似的，拼命向前挤，一面用肘推搡，一面喊“乌拉！”就像他这时要杀死自己和所有的人似的，但是在他身边攒动着和他一样的具有野兽般面孔形的人们，也同样喊着“乌拉！”
“皇帝原来是这样！”彼佳想道。“不行，我不能亲自把呈文递给皇上，这样太冒失了！”虽然这样，他仍拼命往前钻，他前面的人们背脊的缝隙处，有一片铺着猩红地毯的空地在他眼前一闪；可是这时人群忽然踉踉跄跄往后退（前面的巡警推挡那些太靠近卫队行列的人群；皇帝从宫里正向圣母升天大教堂走去），彼佳的肋骨意外地被狠狠地撞了一下，然后又被挤了一下，他突然两眼发黑，昏了过去。当他醒过来时，一个教士模样的人，脑后有一绺白发，穿一件蓝色旧长袍，大约是一个助祭，他用一只手臂把他挟在腋下，另一只手臂挡住挤过来的人群。
“把小少爷挤死了！”助祭说，“这样不行！……轻一点……
挤死人了，挤死人了！”
皇帝步入圣母升天大教堂。人群又平静下来，助祭把面色苍白，呼吸困难的彼佳带到炮王①那儿。有几个人很怜悯彼佳，忽然一群人都来看他，在他周围拥挤过来。站在他跟前的人们照料他，解开他的常礼服，把他放在高高的炮台上，责骂那些挤他的人。
①炮王是一五八六年铸造的大炮，现保存在克里姆林宫。
“这样会把人挤死。真不像活！简直要出人命了！瞧这可怜的孩子，脸色白得像台布。”几个声音说。
彼佳很快地就清醒过来，他的脸上又泛起红晕，疼痛也过去了。以暂时的不愉快，换取了炮台这个位置，他希望从这个位置上看见准会回来的皇帝。彼佳现在已经不再想递呈文了。只要能看见他—他就认为自己是幸福的人了。
在圣母升天大教堂做礼拜的时候—这是一次为皇帝驾临和为土耳其媾和而举行的联合祈祷，人群散开了；小贩出现了，叫卖克瓦斯、糖饼和彼佳特别爱吃的罂粟糖饼，又可以听见日常的谈话。一个女商贩把挤破的披巾给人看，她说她是出大价钱买来的；另一个女商贩说，如今丝绸都涨价了。救彼佳的那个助祭和一个官吏说，那天是某某和某某神父陪同主教主持礼拜。助祭一再说“·会·同·主·祭”这个彼佳不懂得的词。两个小市民正在同几个嗑榛子的农奴姑娘调笑。所有这些谈话，特别是同姑娘们的调笑，是对彼佳这样年龄的男孩最有吸引力的，但是现在这些谈话却引不起彼佳的兴趣；他坐在高高的炮身上，想到皇帝，想到对他的爱戴，心中仍然很激动。在他被挤时的疼痛和恐惧的感觉连同欢喜的感觉，更使他意识到此时此刻的重要性。
忽然从河岸传来礼炮声（这是庆祝与土耳其媾和），人们向河岸蜂拥过来——来看怎样放炮。彼佳也要往那儿跑，但以保护小少爷为己任的助祭不让他去。礼炮继续鸣放，这时从圣母升天大教堂跑出军官、将军和侍卫，然后又走出几个步履从容的人，一群人又脱下帽子，那些跑去看放炮的人，都跑回来。最后，从大教堂里走出四个穿制服，佩绶带的男人。
“乌拉！乌拉！”一群人又高呼起来。
“什么人？什么人？”彼佳带着哭腔问周围的人，但是没有人回答他；大家太入迷了，彼佳选了四个人中的一个，他高兴得泪水模糊了眼睛，看不清那个人，虽然那个人不是皇帝，他仍满怀喜悦，用狂热的声音喊“乌拉！”并且决定，无论如何明天他要当一个军人。
人群跟着皇帝跑，一直送他到皇宫，然后就散了。已经很晚了，彼佳还没吃东西，大汗淋漓，但是他没回家，同剩下的还相当多的人站在宫殿前面，在皇帝进餐的时候，向宫殿的窗户张望，还在期待着什么，他们非常羡慕那些正走上宫殿门厅，前去和皇帝共进午餐的达官贵人，也羡慕那些正在餐桌前伺候，透过窗口隐约可见的宫廷侍者。
在皇帝吃饭的时候，瓦卢那瓦转脸对窗口望望，说：
“民众还想再见一见陛下。”
用完午饭，皇帝吃着最后一片饼干，站起身来，走到阳台上。民众，其中也有彼佳，都涌向阳台。
“天使，老天啊！乌拉！父亲啊！”……彼佳和人们一起喊道。又和着一些农妇和几个心肠软的男人，欢喜得哭起来。皇帝手里拿着一片相当大的吃剩的饼干，掰啐了，它落在阳台的栏杆上，从栏杆上掉到地上。一个站得最近的穿短上衣的车夫，扑过去，把饼干抓到手里。人群中有几个扑向车夫，皇帝看到这情景，吩咐递给他一盘饼干，开始从阳台上往下撒，彼佳两眼充血，被挤坏的可能仍威胁着他，更使他紧张，他向饼干冲过去。他不知道为什么要这样做，但是他必须拿到一片沙皇手中的饼干。为此不惜任何代价，他冲过去，绊倒了一个正在抢饼干的老太太。老太太虽然躺在地上，但仍不认输（她正在抢饼干，但没有抓到）。彼佳用膝盖推开她的手，抄起一块饼干，他像是怕赶不上人家那样，又高呼“乌拉！”此时，嗓子已经嘶哑了。
皇帝走了，随后大部分人也散了。
“我就说嘛，还要再等一等——果不其然，等到了。”四周的人都快乐地议论着。
尽管彼佳很幸福，他走回家的时候依然闷闷不乐，他知道，这一天的欢乐完结了。离开克里姆林宫后，彼佳不是直接回家，而是找他的伙伴奥博连斯基，一个也要参军的十五岁的少年。回到家里，他坚决而且强硬地宣称，如果不让他参军，他就逃跑。第二天，伊利亚·安德烈伊奇伯爵虽然没有完全屈服，可仍出门去打听，看能不能给彼佳谋一个较安全的位置。
收听单词发音 |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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sedateness
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| n.安详，镇静 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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42
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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