War And Peace полностью

‘We’ve been listening to rubbish!’ went the word through the crowd. ‘They’re not going to let Moscow go just like that! They been spoofing, and you’ve swallowed it. Plenty of troops, aren’t there? They’re not going to let him in. That’s the government for you. You listen to what folks is saying!’ they said, pointing to the tall fellow.

By the China-town wall another knot of people was gathering round a man in a rough coat holding a piece of paper.

‘It’s a decree. They’re reading a decree!’ came voices from the crowd, and the mob surged round the reader.

The man in the coat was reading the poster for the 31st of August. As the mob crowded round he seemed disconcerted but, under pressure from the tall young man, who had shoved his way through, he started to read the notice. There was a tremor in his voice.

‘First thing tomorrow I shall go and see his Serene Highness, the prince,’ he read (‘Serineinous!’ parroted the tall young man, with a triumphant smile and a deep frown), ‘to hold talks, go into action and give every assistance to the troops in exterminating the enemy swine. Root and branch we too shall . . .’ the reader went on, and then paused for a moment (‘Hear that?’ roared the tall young man triumphantly. ‘He’s got the measure of them!’), ‘we too shall destroy them and send these visitors to hell. I’ll be back by dinnertime, and we shall kick them, stick them and lick them, the enemy swine.’

These last words were delivered to a background of complete silence. The tall man’s head dropped in dismay. It was obvious that nobody had taken these last words in. It was the phrase ‘I’ll be back by dinnertime tomorrow’ that seemed to affect everybody, reader and audience alike. The sensitivities of the crowd were strained to breaking point and this was too ordinary, too down-to-earth, not what they wanted. Any one of them could have said it, and therefore it was something that should never have been said by higher authority.

They stood there, all of them, silent and crestfallen. The tall man’s lips were moving, and he was swaying.

‘Look! He’s the one to ask! . . . It’s him, isn’t it? . . . Ask him! Go on . . . He’ll tell us . . .’ came sudden voices from the back of the crowd, and the general attention switched to a little carriage that had just driven into the square with an escort of two mounted dragoons. It was the police-chief.

The police-chief, who had received orders that morning from Count Rostopchin (along with a large sum of money that was still in his pocket) to go out and set fire to the wooden barges on the river, ordered his driver to stop when he saw a crowd bearing down on him.

‘Who are these people?’ he shouted, watching them sidle forward diffidently in ones and twos. ‘Who are all these people? I’m asking you,’ repeated the police-chief when he got no reply.

‘Your Honour,’ said the man in the rough coat, ‘after his Excellency’s proclamation, sir, they wanted to be of service, risking life and limb, not making any trouble, sir, as his Excellency said . . .’

‘The count has not gone. He is still here, and he will soon be making arrangements for you,’ said the police-chief. ‘Get going!’ he said to the driver. The crowd stood still, clustering round those who had heard the words of authority, and watching the little carriage as it drove away.

Meanwhile the police-chief looked round in alarm and said something to his driver. The horses put on speed.

‘They’ve done us! Take us to the count!’ roared the voice of the tall man. ‘Don’t let him go, boys! What’s he got to say for himself? Hold him!’ roared various voices, and the crowd rushed off after the carriage.

The mob pursued the police-chief all the way to Lubyanka, a noisy rabble.

‘Oh yes, the nobs and the tradesmen have all gone, and we’re left here to go under. Treat us like dogs, don’t they?’ went the ever-growing murmur through the crowd.

CHAPTER 24