‘What can you be crying about, Mamma?’ asked Vera. ‘From what he writes we ought to be celebrating, not crying.’
This was true, of course, but the count and the countess and Natasha all looked at her reproachfully. ‘Who does she think she is?’ thought the countess.
Nikolay’s letter was read out hundreds of times and anyone considered worthy of hearing it had to come in to see the countess, who never let go of it. The tutors went in, the nurses, Mitenka and several acquaintances. Every time the countess read the letter she did so with renewed enjoyment, and every time she discovered new virtues in her dear son, Nikolay. How strange it seemed, how extraordinary and how delightful, to think that her son, the little baby whose tiny limbs had stirred within her twenty years ago, the subject of many a row with the count for spoiling him, that son whose first little words she remembered so well – that son was now far away in a foreign land, in strange surroundings, a war hero, all on his own with no help or guidance, doing a man’s job. The age-old experience of people the world over which tells us that babies in their cradles grow up bit by bit into men meant nothing to the countess. Every stage in Nikolay’s ascent to manhood had come as a shock to her – it was as if there had never been millions and millions of other men growing up the same way. Twenty years before she couldn’t believe that the little creature lying somewhere under her heart would one day cry out and suck her breast and learn to talk, and now she couldn’t believe that the same little creature could have turned into such a strong, brave man, an example to all, if his letter was anything to go by.
‘Oh, his descriptions! He writes with such
It took them more than a week of hard work on rough drafts and fair copies to compose letters to Nikolay from all the household. Under the eagle eye of the countess and with the count’s careful assistance, cash to cover the outfit of a young officer and various necessary items were put together. The pragmatic Anna Mikhaylovna had succeeded in obtaining special patronage for herself and her son while he was in the army, and this even extended to correspondence. Any letters from her could be addressed to the Grand Duke Konstantin, who was in command of the guards. The Rostovs assumed that ‘The Russian Guards Serving Abroad’ was an adequate address, and if a letter reached the grand duke in command of the guards there was no reason why it shouldn’t get through to the Pavlograd regiment, which must surely be serving somewhere not too far away. And so it was decided to send the letters and the money to Boris via the grand duke’s special messenger, and it would be up to Boris to have them forwarded to Nikolay. There were letters from the count, the countess, Petya, Vera, Natasha and Sonya, six thousand roubles for his kitting out and a few other bits and pieces that the count wanted his son to have.
CHAPTER 7
On the 12th of November, Kutuzov’s fighting forces were camped near Olmütz, getting ready to be inspected the following day by the two Emperors – of Russia and Austria. The guards, who had only just marched in from Russia, had spent the night ten miles outside Olmütz, and by ten o’clock the next morning they stood ready for inspection in the town square.
