He was in mid-story and had got to the point where he was saying, ‘You can’t imagine that feeling of fury during the charge,’ when in walked Prince Andrey Bolkonsky, whom Boris had been expecting. Prince Andrey liked to help and encourage younger men and was flattered when they wanted his patronage. He was well disposed to Boris, who had impressed him the day before, and he was now keen to do whatever the young man wanted him to do. Fresh from delivering some documents from Kutuzov to the Tsarevich, he had called in on Boris, hoping to find him alone. When he came into the room and saw the hussar holding forth about his exploits in the field (Prince Andrey couldn’t stand the kind of man who liked doing this), he gave Boris a warm smile, but frowned and screwed up his features as he turned to Rostov with a slight bow. He then eased his tired body languidly down on to a sofa, regretting that he had dropped in on such disagreeable company. Rostov saw all this and flared up, but it didn’t matter – this man was nothing to him. One glance at Boris told him that he too seemed embarrassed by the battle-scarred hussar. Despite Prince Andrey’s offhand, sneering manner, and the contempt in which Rostov, a fighting man who knew what action was, held staff adjutants in general – and the newcomer was clearly one of them – he still felt embarrassed, blushed and stopped talking. Boris inquired what the latest news was at staff headquarters – without being indiscreet surely he could say something about future developments.
‘They seem likely to advance,’ answered Bolkonsky, clearly reluctant to say more in front of other people. Berg took the opportunity to ask with great deference whether the company captains’ forage allowance was to be doubled as he had heard. To this Prince Andrey replied with a smile that he could offer no opinion on such vital matters of state, and Berg laughed with delight.
‘Oh, about that little matter of yours,’ said Prince Andrey turned back to Boris, ‘we’ll have a word later,’ and he glanced at Rostov. ‘Come and see me after the inspection and we’ll see what can be done.’ Then looking around the room he picked out Rostov, who was in a desperate state of childish pique bordering on truculence which until now he had seen fit to ignore. ‘I believe you were talking about Schöngrabern? Were you there?’
‘Yes I was,’ Rostov said aggressively – an obvious insult to the adjutant. Bolkonsky could see the state he was in, and it seemed to amuse him. There was mockery in his smile.
‘Oh yes, they do go on about that engagement, don’t they?’
‘Yes they do!’ said Rostov in a loud voice, glaring at Boris as well as Bolkonsky with sudden fury in his eyes. ‘Maybe they do go on a bit, but the ones who are going on about it are men who’ve been under fire, they have something to go on about, not like nobodies on the staff who pick up honours for doing nothing.’
‘A category to which you assume I belong,’ said Prince Andrey, with a relaxed manner and a particularly pleasant smile.
Rostov felt moved by a strange feeling of hostility tempered with respect for the tranquil bearing of this person.
‘Well, I don’t know about you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know you, and frankly I don’t want to. I’m talking about staff officers in general.’
‘Just let me say this,’ Prince Andrey interrupted in a tone of quiet authority. ‘You’re doing your best to insult me, and I must accept it’s not a hard thing to do if you are going to go on showing your own lack of self-respect. But I’m sure you’ll agree this is neither the time nor the place for a squabble. In a few days’ time we shall be taking part in a real duel much more serious than this, and incidentally, Boris Drubetskoy tells me he’s an old friend of yours – it’s not his fault that you don’t like the look of my face. Anyway,’ he said, getting up, ‘you know who I am and where you can find me. And don’t forget,’ he added, ‘I don’t consider either of us to have been insulted. My advice to you, as an older man, is to let the matter drop. So – Friday, then, after the inspection, I’ll be expecting you, Drubetskoy. Goodbye till then,’ Prince Andrey concluded, and he went out, bowing to them both.
By the time Rostov thought of a suitable answer he had gone, and he was all the more livid for not having thought of it in time. He had his horse brought round at once, took leave of Boris coldly and rode off. What should he do – ride over to headquarters tomorrow and challenge that stuck-up adjutant, or really let the matter drop? The question worried him all the way back. One moment he thought vindictively how much pleasure he would take in scaring that overbearing feeble little shrimp with his pistol, and the next he was surprised to find himself thinking there was no one he would rather have as a friend than that insufferable adjutant.
CHAPTER 8
