End of Act One. As you would expect, interest and amusement continue to increase in those that follow. After the departure of the field-marshal it turns out that we are within sight of the enemy and must fight. Buxhöwden is commanding officer by seniority, but General Bennigsen thinks differently, especially since he and his corps are the ones facing the enemy, and he wants a chance to fight a battle ‘on his own hand’, as the Germans put it. He does fight. It is the battle of Pultusk, which is seen as a great victory but in my view is nothing of the sort. We civilians, as you know, have a very crude way of deciding whether a battle has been won or lost. The side that does the retreating after the battle has lost, according to us, and by that token we lost the battle of Pultusk. To cut a long story short, we retreat after the battle, but we send a courier off to Petersburg with news of a victory, and the general does not transfer command to Buxhöwden because he is hoping to receive from Petersburg the title of commander-in-chief in acknowledgement of his triumph. During the interregnum we embark on manoeuvres of an extremely fascinating and original kind. Our aim is not what it should be – avoiding the enemy or attacking him – but avoiding General Buxhöwden, who by seniority ought to be our commanding officer. We pursue this goal with such vigour that even when we cross a river that cannot be forded we burn the bridges down in order to separate ourselves from the enemy, who for the time being is not Bonaparte but Buxhöwden. General Buxhöwden just missed being attacked and captured by superior enemy forces as a result of one of our splendid manoeuvres which saved us from him. Buxhöwden comes after us – we scuttle. The moment he crosses to our side of the river we cross back again. At last the enemy, Buxhöwden, catches up with us and attacks. The two generals have a row. There is even a challenge from Buxhöwden and an epileptic fit from Bennigsen. But at the critical moment the courier who took the news of our Pultusk victory to Petersburg brings back news of our man’s appointment as commander-in-chief, and with enemy number one, Buxhöwden, disposed of, we are able to turn our attention to enemy number two, Bonaparte. But lo and behold! – at this juncture up rises enemy number three, the soldiers of
Prince Andrey began by skimming the letter, but unconsciously he became more and more absorbed in its contents (though he knew how far Bilibin could be believed). At this point he screwed up the letter and threw it away. It wasn’t so much the contents of the letter that annoyed him; he was annoyed by the simple fact that that far-away life, now so alien to him, could bother him at all. He closed his eyes and wiped his forehead with one hand, as if to rid himself of any involvement in what he had been reading, and then listened again to what was going on in the nursery. Suddenly he thought he heard a strange sound coming through the door. He panicked, afraid that something might have gone wrong with the baby while he’d been reading the letter. He tiptoed back to the nursery door and opened it.
As he was going in he saw the nurse hiding something from him with a scared face. Princess Marya was no longer there beside the cot.
‘My dear.’ He heard Princess Marya’s voice behind him whispering in what he took to be despair. As often happens after prolonged sleeplessness and great worry, he had panicked for no good reason and jumped to the conclusion that the baby was dead. Everything he saw and heard seemed to confirm his worst fears.
‘It’s all over,’ he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He walked over to the cot in great distress, knowing he would find it empty – the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He pulled the curtains aside, and for quite some time his worried eyes darted about without finding the baby. Then he saw him. The red-cheeked child was lying crosswise with his head lower than the pillow, smacking his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly.
