War And Peace полностью

‘His Serene Highness Prince Kutuzov has withdrawn through Mozhaysk to join up more quickly with troops heading his way, and he has now taken up a strong position which the enemy will find it hard to attack. Forty-eight cannons and supplies of ammunition have been sent out to him, and his Serene Highness has vowed to defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and fight in the streets. Brother citizens, do not misunderstand the closing of the Law Courts; this step was unavoidable, but be assured that we shall still have our own ways of dealing with criminals! When the time comes I shall need some good men, from town and country. I shall give the call a day or two beforehand, but for the moment there’s no need, and I say no more. You will find axes useful, and hunting spears are pretty good too, but the three-pronged fork is the best of the lot – Frenchmen weigh no more than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrow afternoon I shall take the Iversk icon of the Mother of God to the wounded men in Catherine’s Hospital. There we shall have the water blessed, and they will get better more quickly. I’m feeling better myself. I did have trouble with one eye, but now I’m on the lookout with both.’

‘But I was told by the military,’ said Pierre, ‘there couldn’t be any fighting in the town, and the position . . .’

‘Yes, yes, that’s what we’re saying,’ said the first speaker.

‘And what does it mean when he says, “I did have trouble with one eye, but now I’m on the lookout with both”?’

‘The count had a stye on his eye,’ said the adjutant smiling, ‘and he was very upset when I told him people were coming up to ask what was wrong with him. Oh, by the way, Count,’ he said suddenly, turning to Pierre with a smile on his face, ‘we’ve been hearing about your family problems. The word is that your wife, the countess . . .’

‘I haven’t heard anything,’ said Pierre indifferently. ‘What have you heard?’

‘Oh, you know how it is – stories go the rounds. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.’

‘What have you heard?’

‘Well, people are saying,’ said the adjutant with the same unwavering smile, ‘that your wife, the countess, is getting ready to go abroad. I’m sure it’s all nonsense.’

‘Maybe it is,’ said Pierre, looking round absentmindedly. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked, pointing to a little old man with a big snow-white beard, eyebrows of the same colour and a ruddy face, wearing a clean blue coat.

‘Him? Oh, he’s just a local tradesman. He runs an eating-place. It’s Vereshchagin. You must have heard the story about the proclamation.’

‘Oh, that’s Vereshchagin, is it?’ said Pierre, staring closely at the old man’s calm, steady face, searching for signs of treachery.

‘That’s not the Vereshchagin. That’s the father of the fellow who wrote the proclamation,’ said the adjutant. ‘His son’s in gaol. Got it coming to him, I shouldn’t wonder.’

A little old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German with a cross round his neck, came over to join them.

‘Well, it’s a long story really,’ the adjutant was saying. ‘There was this proclamation that came out a couple of months ago. It was sent to the count, and he ordered an inquiry. Well, Gavrilo Ivanych here looked into things and he found out the proclamation had gone through exactly sixty-three pairs of hands. He goes to one fellow and asks where he got it from. Oh, so-and-so. Where did he get it from? So-and-so. And it went on like that until they traced it all the way back to Vereshchagin . . . Bit of a tradesman, not much education, you know, makes a bit on the side,’ said the adjutant with a smile. ‘So they asked him where he got it from. Not that we didn’t know. There was only one man he could have got it from – the postmaster. But there must have been some kind of deal between them. Nobody, he says – he wrote it himself. No good threatening him or asking questions. He sticks to his story. He wrote it himself. So they told the count, and he had him in. “Where did you get this proclamation?” “Wrote it myself.” Well, you know what the count’s like,’ said the adjutant, enjoying himself and smiling with pride. ‘Came down on him like a ton of bricks . . . called him a brazen liar and a stubborn idiot!’

‘I see! The count needed him to point the finger at Klyucharyov,’ said Pierre.