Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
far was not guilty of anything, he
added, taking Pierres hand in a friendly manner, "We are on the eve
of a public disaster and I havent time to be polite to everybody
who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a whirl. Well, mon
cher, what are you doing personally?"
"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing
the thoughtful expression of his face.
The count frowned.
"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can,
thats all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-by,
my dear fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after
Pierre, "is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches
of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?"
Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchins room more sullen and
angry than he had ever before shown himself.
When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight
people had come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee,
the colonel of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various
petitioners. They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions
from him. Pierre did not understand and was not interested in any of
these questions and only answered them in order to get rid of these
people. When left alone at last he opened and read his wifes letter.
"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old
man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary...
the meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting
married... One must forget and understand..." And going to his bed
he threw himself on it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.
When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that
a special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count
Rostopchin to know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving
A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in
the drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to
see them, went to the back porch and out through the gate.
From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of
Bezukhovs household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre
again or knew where he was.
The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is,
till the eve of the enemys entry into the city.
After Petya had joined Obolenskis regiment of Cossacks and left for
Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was
seized with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war,
had both gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or
both of them might be killed like the three sons of one of her
acquaintances, struck her that summer for the first time with cruel
clearness. She tried to get Nicholas back and wished to go herself to
join Petya, or to get him an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, but
neither of these proved possible. Petya could not return unless his
regiment did so or unless he was transferred to another regiment on
active service. Nicholas was somewhere with the army and had not sent
a word since his last letter, in which he had given a detailed account
of his meeting with Princess Mary. The countess did not sleep at
night, or when she did fall asleep dreamed that she saw her sons lying
dead. After many consultations and conversations, the count at last
devised means to tranquillize her. He got Petya transferred from
Obolenskis regiment to Bezukhovs, which was in training near Moscow.
Though Petya would remain in the service, this transfer would give the
countess the consolation of seeing at least one of her sons under her
wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her Petya so as not to let
him go again, but always get him appointed to places where he could
not possibly take part in a battle. As long as Nicholas alone was in
danger the countess imagined that she loved her first-born more than
all her other children and even reproached herself for it; but when
her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad at lessons, was always
breaking things in the house and making himself a nuisance to
everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black eyes and fresh
rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show--when he was
thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were fighting somewhere
about something and apparently finding
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