War And Peace полностью

‘I’m not joking,’ Bilibin went on. ‘Nothing could be truer or sadder than this. These three gentlemen advance to the bridge unaccompanied and waving white handkerchiefs. It’s a truce, they say, and they, the marshals, have come to parley with Prince Auersperg. The duty officer lets them on to the bridgehead. They spin him a thousand gasconades: the war is over, Emperor Francis has arranged a meeting with Bonaparte, they wish to see Prince Auersperg and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg. These Gascon gentlemen embrace the officers, make a lot of jokes and sit there on the big guns, and meanwhile a French battalion creeps up quietly on to the bridge, hurls the sacks of incendiary material down into the river, and marches up to the bridgehead. Eventually the lieutenant-general appears, our dear Prince Auersperg von Mautern, no less. “Esteemed enemy! Flower of the Austrian yeomanry! Hero of the Turkish wars! Hostilities are at end. We can all shake hands . . . Emperor Napoleon has a burning desire to make the acquaintance of Prince Auersperg.” In a nutshell, these gentlemen – true Gascons all – bamboozle Auersperg with their clever talk; he is so flattered by this rapidly developed intimacy with French marshals, so dazzled by Murat’s fine cloak and ostrich feathers, that he is blinded by their fire and forgets that firing’s what he ought to be doing to the enemy.’ (Carried away as he was by the lively telling of his story, Bilibin did not forget to pause after this bon mot, to allow it to sink in.) ‘A French battalion storms the bridgehead, spikes the cannons and that’s it, the bridge is taken. But wait, the best part of the whole story,’ he went on, a skilled raconteur relaxing in mid-narrative, ‘is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was due to give the signal to light the fuses and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing the French troops running on to the bridge, wanted to open fire, but Lannes stayed his hand. The sergeant, obviously brighter than his general, goes up to Auersperg and he says, “Prince, it’s a trick. Look, the French are coming!” Murat sees that all is lost if he lets the sergeant have his say. With pretended amazement (a true Gascon indeed!) he addresses Auersperg: “Is this Austrian discipline, famed the world over?” he asks. “How can you let a man of low rank address you like that?” This was a stroke of genius. Prince Auersperg preserves his honour by having the sergeant arrested. Be honest, this Tabor bridge affair makes a sweet little story, doesn’t it? No stupidity, no cowardice . . .’

‘It could be treason,’ said Prince Andrey, still vividly imagining grey overcoats, wounds, gunsmoke and roaring cannons – and the glory that would be his.

‘Oh, it’s not that. But it does put the court in an awkward spot,’ pursued Bilibin. ‘It’s not treason, or cowardice, or stupidity – it’s Ulm all over again.’ He seemed to pause for reflection, wondering just how to put it, ‘It’s that man Mack . . . We have been Macked!’ he said, satisfied that he had coined another bon mot, a brand-new one that was going to get repeated. His wrinkled brow relaxed smartly in self-congratulation, and with a thin smile he began to inspect his fingernails.

‘Where are you off to?’ he asked abruptly, turning to Prince Andrey, who had got up and was heading for his room.

‘I must get going.’

‘Where to?’

‘Back to the army.’

‘I thought you were going to stay on for a couple of days.’

‘Not now. I’ve got to leave at once.’

And Prince Andrey, after making the necessary arrangements for the journey, went to his room.

‘You know, my dear fellow,’ said Bilibin, following him in, ‘I’ve been thinking about you. Why do you have to go?’ As if to prove the sureness of his coming argument, all the wrinkles disappeared from his face.

Prince Andrey looked at him quizzically but said nothing.

‘Why do you have to go? I know duty calls – you must gallop off to the army now that the army is in danger. I understand this, my boy. It’s called heroism.’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Prince Andrey.

‘But you’re a cultivated man, so be one in the fullest sense. Look at things the other way round and you’ll see you’ve got it all wrong. Your duty is to take care of yourself. Leave that sort of thing to other people who are good for nothing better . . . No one has ordered you back, and you haven’t been dismissed from here, so you can stay on and go with us wherever misfortune takes us. I’ve heard it said we’re going to Olmütz. Olmütz is a very charming town. And we can travel there together quite pleasantly in my carriage.’

‘That’s enough of the jokes, Bilibin,’ said Bolkonsky.

‘No, I speak sincerely as a friend. Think it over. Where are you off to now, and why are you going at all when you can stay on here? There only two possibilities,’ (he wrinkled up the skin of his left temple) ‘either peace will be declared before you get back to the army, or it will mean defeat and disgrace along with Kutuzov and the whole army.’