Emma Watson Pussy
Books:
Anna Karenina
War And Peace
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he had evidently only just put on, standing
in that room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his
breeches a new pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some
reason, attracted Rostovs attention. This man was speaking to someone
in the adjoining room.
"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing
Rostov, he stopped short and frowned.
"What is it? A petition?"
"What is it?" asked the person in the other room.
"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces.
"Tell him to come later. Hell be coming out directly, we must go."
"Later... later! Tomorrow. Its too late..."
Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped
him.
"Whom have you come from? Who are you?"
"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov.
"Are you an officer?"
"Lieutenant Count Rostov."
"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with
you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed
him.
Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there
were many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to
pass.
Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding
himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to
shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety
of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was
making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a
familiar voice called him and a hand detained him.
"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep
voice.
It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperors special
favor during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the
division in which Rostov was serving.
Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the
kindly, jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an
excited voice told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for
Denisov, whom the general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the
general shook his head gravely.
"Im sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter."
Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining
Denisovs case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were
heard on the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the
porch. The gentlemen of the Emperors suite ran down the stairs and
went to their horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at
Austerlitz, led up the Emperors horse, and the faint creak of a
footstep Rostov knew at once was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the
danger of being recognized, Rostov went close to the porch, together
with some inquisitive civilians, and again, after two years, saw those
features he adored: that same face and same look and step, and the
same union of majesty and mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm
and love for his sovereign rose again in Rostovs soul in all its
old force. In the uniform of the Preobrazhensk regiment--white
chamois-leather breeches and high boots--and wearing a star Rostov did
not know (it was that of the Legion dhonneur), the monarch came out
into the porch, putting on his gloves and carrying his hat under his
arm. He stopped and looked about him, brightening everything around by
his glance. He spoke a few words to some of the generals, and,
recognizing the former commander of Rostovs division, smiled and
beckoned to him.
All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for
some time to the Emperor.
The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his
horse. Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers
(among whom was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside
his horse, with his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the
cavalry general and said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be
heard by all:
"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than
I," and he raised his foot to the stirrup.
The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and
rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm,
Rostov ran after him with the crowd.
CHAPTER XXI
The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a
battalion of the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a
battalion of the French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left.
As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which
presented arms, another group of
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