Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
were offered enormous sums of money for
them. Not only were huge sums offered for the horses and carts, but on
the previous evening and early in the morning of the first of
September, orderlies and servants sent by wounded officers came to the
Rostovs and wounded men dragged themselves there from the Rostovs
and from neighboring houses where they were accommodated, entreating
the servants to try to get them a lift out of Moscow. The major-domo
to whom these entreaties were addressed, though he was sorry for the
wounded, resolutely refused, saying that he dare not even mention
the matter to the count. Pity these wounded men as one might, it was
evident that if they were given one cart there would be no reason to
refuse another, or all the carts and ones own carriages as well.
Thirty carts could not save all the wounded and in the general
catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and ones own family. So
thought the major-domo on his masters behalf.
On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly,
so as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward
morning, and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In
the yard stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front
porch. The major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly
and to a pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count
the major-domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go
"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking
his bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the
orderly and nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.)
"We can harness at once, your excellency."
"Well, thats right. As soon as the countess wakes well be off, God
willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer.
"Are you staying in my house?"
The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson.
"Count, be so good as to allow me... for Gods sake, to get into
some corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I
shall be all right on a loaded cart..."
Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same
request on behalf of his master.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very
pleased, very pleased. Vasilich, youll see to it. Just unload one
or two carts. Well, what of it... do whats necessary..." said the
count, muttering some indefinite order.
But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the
officers face had already sealed the order. The count looked around
him. In the yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded
officers and their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at
the count and moving toward the porch.
"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the
major-domo. "What are your orders about the pictures?"
The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to
refuse the wounded who asked for a lift.
"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added
in a soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard.
At nine oclock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who
had been her ladys maid before her marriage and now performed a
sort of chief gendarmes duty for her, came to say that Madame
Schoss was much offended and the young ladies summer dresses could
not be left behind. On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame
Schoss was offended because her trunk had been taken down from its
cart, and all the loads were being uncorded and the luggage taken
out of the carts to make room for wounded men whom the count in the
simplicity of his heart had ordered that they should take with them.
The countess sent for her husband.
"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded."
"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer
came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are
things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to
them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and
there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let
them be taken... wheres the hurry?"
The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money
matters. The countess was accustomed to this tone
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