Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace 545


Banned Celebs






Emma Watson Pussy



Books:

Anna Karenina


War And Peace



some Wurttemberg hussars had come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the captains horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because the hussars did not understand what was said to them in French. The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern voice asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding officer, and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that were already occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the two first questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his commanding officer, but in reply to the third question which he did not understand said, introducing broken French into his own German, that he was the quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had ordered him to occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who knew German, translated what the German said to the captain and gave the captains reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had understood what was said to him, the German submitted and took his men elsewhere. The captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in a loud voice. When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and he was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the position he was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that the happy conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. Painful as that was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the moment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The few glasses of wine he had drunk and the conversation with this good-natured man had destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which he had spent the last few days and which was essential for the execution of his design. The pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were ready. Napoleon was to enter the town next day. Pierre still considered that it would be a useful and worthy action to slay the evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do it. He did not know why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not carry out his intention. He struggled against the confession of his weakness but dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his former gloomy frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-sacrifice, had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he met. The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a tune. The Frenchmans chatter which had previously amused Pierre now repelled him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture with which he twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I will go away immediately. I wont say another word to him," thought Pierre. He thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange feeling of weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go away, but could not do so. The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up and down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as if he were smiling to himself at some amusing thought. "The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly said. "Hes a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But hes a German." He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, then?" Pierre looked at him in silence. "What is the German for shelter?" "Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft." "How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully. "Unterkunft," Pierre repeated. "Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some seconds with laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, dont you think so, Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded. "Well, lets have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall we? Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out gaily. Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled expression on his companions face. Ramballe, with genuine distress and sympathy in his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him. "There now, were sad," said he, touching Pierres hand. "Have I upset you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre. "Perhaps its the state of affairs?" Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchmans eyes whose

War And Peace page 544        War And Peace page 546