War And Peace полностью

‘Well now, how is life treating you?’ he said, walking through to the room that had been set aside for him. The priest’s wife, with a dimpled smile on her rosy-cheeked face, followed him in. The adjutant came out to Prince Andrey in the porch, and invited him to lunch. Half an hour later Kutuzov sent for Prince Andrey. He was sprawling in an armchair, still wearing his unbuttoned military coat. He was holding a French novel, and when Prince Andrey came in he marked his place with a paper-knife and put it down. Prince Andrey saw from the cover it was The Knights of the Swan, a romantic tale by Madame de Genlis.

‘Do sit down, sit down here, and let’s have a little talk,’ said Kutuzov. ‘It’s sad, very sad. But don’t forget, dear boy, you can look on me as a father, a second father!’

Prince Andrey told Kutuzov everything he knew about his father’s death, and what he had seen at Bald Hills during his recent visit.

‘Is this what we’ve been reduced to?’ Kutuzov cried suddenly, deeply disturbed, accepting Prince Andrey’s account as a vivid picture of the plight Russia was in.

‘Give me time. Just give me time!’ he added with a vicious glare, but he seemed reluctant to dwell on such a disturbing subject, and he went on to say, ‘I’ve sent for you to keep you here with me.’

‘I thank your Highness,’ answered Prince Andrey, ‘but I’m afraid I’m no good for staff work any more,’ he said, with a smile that was not lost on Kutuzov, who looked back quizzically. ‘No, the thing is,’ added Prince Andrey, ‘I’ve got used to my regiment. I like the officers, and the men seem to like me. I wouldn’t want to leave the regiment. If I decline the honour of being in attendance on you, please believe . . .’

Kutuzov’s podgy face glowed with a shrewd, kindly expression and a suggestion of irony. He cut Bolkonsky short.

‘I’m sorry. You would have been useful to me. But you’re right, you’re quite right. It’s not here that good men are needed. There’s never any shortage of counsellors, but good men are hard to come by. The regiments wouldn’t be what they are if all the counsellors served in them like you. I remember you at Austerlitz. Yes I do, I remember you with that flag!’ said Kutuzov, and Prince Andrey’s face flushed with pleasure at the memory of it. Kutuzov drew him close, offering him a cheek to kiss, and again Prince Andrey caught a glimpse of tears in the old man’s eyes. Even though Prince Andrey knew Kutuzov was prone to tears, and he was being especially nice to him in order to show sympathy for his recent loss, he still felt pleased and flattered by this reminder of Austerlitz.

‘Make your own way, then, and God go with you. I know your way is the way of honour!’ He paused. ‘I missed you at Bucharest. I needed someone to send . . .’ And he was off on to another subject, the Turkish war, and the peace that had been concluded. ‘Oh yes, I’ve had my share of criticism,’ he said, ‘for the war and the peace . . . but everything fell into place at the right time. “Everything falls into place for the man who knows how to wait,” ’ he said, quoting the French proverb. ‘And there were just as many counsellors there as there are here . . .’ he went on, falling back on the subject of counsellors that had become an obsession with him. ‘Ugh, counsellors, counsellors!’ he said. ‘If we’d listened to them all we’d still be in Turkey, without any peace and with the war still on. Too much of a hurry. More haste, less speed, I say. Kamensky would have come to grief there, if he hadn’t died first. He went about storming fortresses with thirty thousand men. Taking fortresses is easy enough, the hard part is winning the war. And you don’t get that by storming and attacking – what you need are time and patience. Kamensky used his soldiers to attack Rushchuk. I used those two, time and patience, and I took more fortresses than he did, and I soon had the Turks eating horse-meat!’ He shook his head. ‘And I’ll have the French doing it too. Take my word for it,’ cried Kutuzov, warming to his task and patting himself on the chest, ‘I’ll have them eating horse-flesh!’ And again his eyes were misty with tears.

‘But we shall have to fight, shan’t we?’ said Prince Andrey.

‘Oh yes, if that’s what people want they’ll have to have it . . . But mark my words, dear boy! There’s nothing stronger than those two old soldiers – time and patience. There’s nothing they can’t do, but our wise counsellors are deaf in one ear, and that’s where the trouble is. Some want action, others don’t. So what am I to do?’ he asked, evidently expecting a reply. ‘Come on, what would you have me do?’ he repeated, and his shrewd eyes shone with deep meaning. ‘I’ll tell you what to do,’ he said, with no answer forthcoming from Prince Andrey. ‘I’ll tell you what to do, and what I do. When in doubt, my friend,’ – he paused – ‘hold back.’ He said this in French, slowly, syllable by syllable.