‘What can I tell him?’ Prince Andrey wondered, looking down at the old man’s bald head shining in the sun. He could tell by the look on his face that Alpatych knew full well how irrelevant these questions were; he was only asking them to allay his own grief.
‘Yes, let it go,’ he said.
‘If your Excellency noticed that the garden’s a bit untidy,’ said Alpatych, ‘there was nothing I could do to stop it. Three regiments have been through and spent the night here. The dragoons were the worst. I wrote down the CO’s name and rank so we can file a complaint.’
‘But what about you? What are you going to do? Are you staying on if the enemy occupies the place?’ Prince Andrey asked him.
Alpatych turned to Prince Andrey, looked him straight in the face, and then all at once, he pointed heavenwards with a solemn gesture.
‘He is my refuge. His will be done!’ he said.
A group of peasants and house serfs were coming across the field, baring their heads as they got near to Prince Andrey.
‘Well, goodbye!’ said the prince, bending down towards Alpatych. ‘You should go. Take whatever you can, and tell the peasants to go to one of the other estates – Ryazan or Moscow.’
Alpatych was clinging to his leg and sobbing his heart out. Prince Andrey eased him away, spurred his horse and galloped away down the avenue.
The old man was still there, squatting over his last and tapping away at his new shoe, as inconsequential as a fly on the dead face of a loved one. Then two little girls came haring out of the conservatory with their skirts full of plums picked from the trees, only to run straight into Prince Andrey. The elder girl took one horrified look at the young master, grabbed her younger playmate by the hand and nipped off to hide behind a birch-tree, scattering green plums and not stopping to pick them up.
Prince Andrey was startled, and he turned away hoping they might not notice he had seen them. He felt sorry for the pretty little girl that he had frightened. He was wary of glancing in her direction, yet he felt an overwhelming urge to do just that. He was swept by a lovely, heart-warming sensation that was quite new to him; the sight of those two little girls had suddenly made him aware that there were such things as other human interests, a million miles from his own but no less legitimate. The little creatures had one burning ambition: to pinch those green plums and scoff them without getting caught, and Prince Andrey wished them well in their enterprise. He could not resist another glance. Feeling safe at last, they had nipped out of their hiding-place and they were off, singing out in shrill little voices, holding their skirts up and dashing merrily across the grassy field as fast as their bare, sunburnt little feet would carry them.
Prince Andrey was feeling quite refreshed by his escape from the dusty realm of the high-road that the troops were marching along. But not far from Bald Hills he turned back on to the road, and caught up with his regiment at their halt near a dam at the end of a small pond. It was about two in the afternoon. The sun, a red ball seen through the dust, baked and scorched his back intolerably through his black coat. The dust was still there, standing immobile over the halted, chattering troops. There wasn’t a breath of wind. As he rode towards the dam, Prince Andrey caught a whiff from the pond, a fresh, muddy smell. He felt an urge to dive in, however muddy it might be. He glanced over at the pond, where he could hear nothing but shrieks and laughter. It wasn’t very big, it was covered with thick green slime, and it had obviously gone up a couple of feet, enough to overflow the dam, by being full of white, naked human bodies, soldiers with brick-red hands, faces and necks, all larking about in the water. All this bare, white human flesh, whooping and roaring with laughter, was thrashing around in the muddy pool like carp in a bucket. These were the sounds of men having fun, and that gave it all an air of special sadness.
One blond young soldier of the third company with a thin strap round his ankle – Prince Andrey knew who he was – crossed himself, stepped back to get a good run-up and plunged in with a huge splash. Another man, a swarthy-skinned NCO with an unruly head of hair, stood waist-deep in the water, flexing his muscular figure and snorting with delight as he poured the water over his head with hands that were black to the wrists. The place rang to the sound of back-slapping, whooping and roaring.
Out on the banks, up on the dam, down in the pond, everywhere was a picture of white, healthy, muscular flesh. Timokhin, the officer with the little red nose, towelling himself on the dam, was embarrassed at the sight of Prince Andrey, but he decided he must speak.
‘It’s really good, sir. You ought to have a go!’ he said.
‘Too dirty,’ said Prince Andrey, pulling a face.
‘We’ll clear it for you. Give us a minute.’ And naked as he was Timokhin ran off to clear the boys out.
‘The prince’s coming in.’
