Prince Andrey was overjoyed to see the child, having thought he had lost him. He bent down and touched the baby with his lips to check whether he was feverish, as his sister had shown him. The soft forehead was damp. He touched the head with his hand – even the hair was wet. The child was soaked with sweat. But he wasn’t dead; no, the crisis was clearly over and he was getting better. Prince Andrey wanted to grab him, crush him, press the little helpless creature to his heart, but he didn’t dare. He stood over him, gazing down at his head and his little arms and legs sticking up under the blanket. He heard a rustling sound at his elbow, and a shadow seemed to spread across under the canopy of the cot. He did not look round. He was still gazing at the baby’s face and listening to his regular breathing. The dark shadow was Princess Marya, who had come over to the cot without making a sound, lifted the curtain and let it fall again behind her. Prince Andrey knew who it was without looking round and he held out his hand to her. She gave it a squeeze.
‘He’s covered in sweat,’ said Prince Andrey.
‘I was on my way to tell you.’
The baby stirred slightly in its sleep, gave a smile and rubbed its forehead against the pillow.
Prince Andrey looked at his sister. In the hazy half-light under the cot-hangings Princess Marya’s luminous eyes shone brighter than ever with tears of happiness. She bent forward and kissed her brother, catching herself in the hangings. They shushed, wagging their fingers at each other, and lingered there in the half-light under the canopy, as if reluctant to leave the seclusion with the three of them, all alone, cut off from the rest of the world. Prince Andrey was the first to move away, catching his hair in the muslin hangings.
‘Yes, it’s all I have left,’ he said with a sigh.
CHAPTER 10
Shortly after his initiation into the Masonic Brotherhood, Pierre set off for the Kiev province where most of his peasants lived, having written down for his own guidance a complete plan of action for the reform of his estates.
Once in Kiev, Pierre summoned all his stewards to a meeting in his main office, where he outlined his wishes and intentions. He told them that measures would soon be put in hand for the complete liberation of his peasants from serf rule,10 and meanwhile his peasants were not to be overworked, women with children were not to be sent out to work, assistance was to be given to the peasants, corporal punishment was to be replaced by admonishment, and every estate must be furnished with hospitals, alms-houses and schools. Several of the stewards (including some overseers who were barely literate) listened in dismay, assuming the young count’s remarks to imply that he was dissatisfied with the way they were running things and embezzling his money. Others soon got over the first shock of alarm and couldn’t help laughing at Pierre’s lisping speech and the new-fangled words that he used. There were also some who were happy just to be hearing the sound of their master’s voice. But one or two of them, including the head steward, listened to what he was saying and quickly worked out how to deal with the master and get what they wanted.
The head steward expressed great sympathy for Pierre’s intentions, but observed that apart from these innovations things were in a bad way and needed a thorough sorting out.
Ever since Pierre had inherited Count Bezukhov’s enormous wealth and with it an annual income of five hundred thousand, he had felt much worse off than he had been with an allowance of ten thousand from his father. He had formed a vague idea of his budget, which could be outlined as follows. About 80,000 roubles were being paid into the Land Bank. Another 30,000 went on the upkeep of his estate just outside Moscow together with his Moscow house and allowances for the three princesses. About 15,000 went into pensions, and a similar amount to charity. His countess was getting 150,000 for her maintenance. Interest on loans accounted for something like 70,000. The building of a new church had run to about 10,000 over the last couple of years. He hardly knew where the rest went – another 100,000 or so – but almost every year he was forced to take out new loans. And beyond that, every year the head steward wrote to him saying that fires had broken out, crops had failed and factories and workshops needing rebuilding. And so the first task Pierre had to face was the one he was least suited to and least fond of – to become a businessman.
