‘Well no, he didn’t,’ said the adjutant in dismay. ‘Klyucharyov had sins enough to answer for without that. That’s why he was banished. Anyway, the count was furious. “How could you have written this?” says he. He picks up a copy of the
CHAPTER 11
In the middle of this new story Pierre was called in to see the governor-general.
He walked into Count Rostopchin’s study. As he did so Rostopchin was scowling and rubbing his forehead and eyes with one hand. There was a little man with him and he was speaking, but the moment Pierre came in he stopped talking and left the room.
‘Ah! See the conquering hero comes,’ said Rostopchin as soon as he had gone. ‘We’ve been hearing about your valiant deeds! But that’s by the way. Tell me, my dear fellow, just between the two of us – are you a freemason?’ said Count Rostopchin, looking all serious as if this was some kind of criminal activity that he might just be prepared to condone. Pierre made no response. ‘I keep my ear to the ground, old man, and I do know there are masons and masons. I just hope you’re not one of those who use the salvation of mankind as an excuse to destroy Russia itself.’
‘Yes, I am a mason,’ answered Pierre.
‘Well then, listen to me, dear boy. I imagine you’re not unaware that Messrs Speransky and Magnitsky have been sent away to their proper places, and Mr Klyucharyov has got the same treatment, along with all the others who have used the building of Solomon’s temple as an excuse to bring down the temple of Russia. You may take it from me there are good reasons behind this. I could never have banished our Postmaster General if he hadn’t been a danger to the community. It has now come to my notice that it was you who sent a carriage to get him out of town, and his papers have been sent to you for safe-keeping. I like you, and I wish you no harm, and since you’re half my age, I’m going to give you a bit of fatherly advice. Sever all contacts with that kind of person, and get out of here as fast as you can.’
‘But what has Klyucharyov done wrong?’ asked Pierre.
‘That’s my business. I’m not answerable to you!’ Rostopchin burst out.
‘If he’s accused of circulating Napoleon’s proclamations, you have no proof,’ said Pierre, avoiding Rostopchin’s eyes. ‘And as for Vereshchagin . . .’
‘Ah, there you have it!’ Rostopchin cut in, scowling again and shouting louder than before. ‘Vereshchagin is a snake in the grass, a traitor who will get what’s coming to him,’ he said, speaking with all the vindictiveness of someone recalling an old grievance. ‘But I didn’t call you in to talk about my affairs – I brought you here to give you some advice, or your marching orders, if that’s the way you prefer it. I’m asking you to sever all contacts with the likes of Klyucharyov and get out of town. I’m going to beat the nonsense out of anybody stupid enough to . . .’ But then suddenly he seemed to realize he was bawling at a man who hadn’t done anything wrong, so he took Pierre by the hand in a friendly way and added: ‘We’re on the eve of a public disaster, and I haven’t time for niceties when people come in to talk business. Sometimes my head fair spins. Anyway, what are you up to now, my dear fellow, you personally?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ answered Pierre, still refusing to look up. His face looked preoccupied, and its expression didn’t change.
The count frowned.
‘Listen to me, old man. Get away as soon you can. That’s my friendly advice to you. Nothing more to be said. A word to the wise . . . Goodbye, dear boy. Oh, by the way,’ he shouted after Pierre as he walked out through the doorway, ‘is it true the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?’
Pierre did not respond to this. He stormed out of Rostopchin’s room with the darkest, angriest scowl that had ever been seen on his face.
