Emma Watson Pussy
Books:
Anna Karenina
War And Peace
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stepping forward and
addressing the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate
you."
He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with
the other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson.
The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing
the seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moments
attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening.
"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived,
quite well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing
with a beaming smile to his head.
The general frowned, turned away, and went on.
"Gott, wie naiv!"* said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps.
*"Good God, what simplicity!"
Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but
Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and
turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of
Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the
Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkovs untimely jest.
"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said
sharply, with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I cant prevent
your doing so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in
my presence, I will teach you to behave yourself."
Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they
gazed at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes.
"Whats the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov.
"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski,
and taking Nesvitskis arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to
say.
"Come, whats the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to
soothe him.
"Whats the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his
excitement. "Dont you understand that either we are officers serving
our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at
the misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care
nothing for their masters business. Quarante mille hommes massacres
et larmee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot pour
rire,"* he said, as if strengthening his views by this French
sentence. "Cest bien pour un garcon de rien comme cet individu dont
vous avez fait un ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour vous.*[2] Only a
hobbledehoy could amuse himself in this way," he added in Russian--but
pronouncing the word with a French accent--having noticed that Zherkov
could still hear him.
*"Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed,
and you find that a cause for jesting!"
*[2] "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom
you have made a friend, but not for you, not for you."
He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he
turned and went out of the corridor.
CHAPTER IV
The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The
squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in
the German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were
assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known
throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet
Rostov, ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had
lived with the squadron commander.
On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the
news of Macks defeat, the camp life of the officers of this
squadron was proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at
cards all night, had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early
in the morning from a foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet
uniform, with a jerk to his horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg
over the saddle with a supple youthful movement, stood for a moment in
the stirrup as if loathe to part from his horse, and at last sprang
down and called to his orderly.
"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up
headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he
continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted
young people show to everyone when they are happy.
"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his
head.
"Mind, walk him up and down well!"
Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had
already thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horses
head. It was evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that
it paid to serve him. Rostov patted the horses neck and then his
flank, and lingered for
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