war and peace 37

war and peace 37

"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.   Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.   "Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so long as its substance is forcible?"   "My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin.   Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording of the Note.   "One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not notes only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume of laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he laughed unnaturally.   There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared his throat to draw attention.   "Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure cut by the new French ambassador."   "Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty's presence."   "His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador took no notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no attention to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him."   All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was impossible to pass any judgment.   "Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing angrily at his daughter.   And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.   After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.   He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, clean- shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told her that he had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision remained in force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his speaking of it to her now.   When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the old men sat together.   Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the impending war.   He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long as we sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into European affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. "We ought not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political interests are all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only thing is to have an armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will never dare to cross the Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!"   "How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can we arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our youths, look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our Kingdom of Heaven."   He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone.   "French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you turned Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a Frenchman and a scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their knees. I went to a party last night, and there out of five ladies three were Roman Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing woolwork on Sundays. And they themselves sit there nearly naked, like the signboards at our Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when one looks at our young people, Prince, one would like to take Peter the Great's old cudgel out of the museum and belabor them in the Russian way till all the nonsense jumps out of them."   All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile and wagged his head approvingly.   "Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, getting up with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to the prince.   "Good-bye, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and offering his cheek to be kissed.   Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose.         CHAPTER IV   Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only wondered whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile attitude toward her. She did not even notice the special attentions and amiabilities shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who was visiting them for the third time already.   Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to Pierre, who hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of the guests to approach her after the old prince had gone out and they were left alone in the drawing room.   "May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink into an armchair beside her.   "Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked.   Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight before him and smiled quietly.   "Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked.   "Who?"   "Drubetskoy."   "No, not long..."   "Do you like him?"   "Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with her father.   "Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an heiress."   "You have observed that?" said Princess Mary.   "Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I can read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay siege to-- you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive to her."   "He visits them?"   "Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said Pierre with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good humored raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his diary.   "No," replied Princess Mary.   "To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is very melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre.   "Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she, "if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should like to tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would be a relief. He would give me advice."   "Would you marry him?"   "Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" she cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. "Ah, how bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." she went on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but grieve him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only one thing left--to go away, but where could I go?"   "What is wrong? What is it, Princess?"   But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst into tears.   "I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any notice-- forget what I have said!"   Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; but she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, that she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no trouble except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage threatened to cause a rupture between father and son.   "Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the subject. "I was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting Andrew any day. I should like them to meet here."   "And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring to the old prince.   Princess Mary shook her head.   "What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The thing is impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first moments. I wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. You have known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me honestly the whole truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you think of her?--The real truth, because you know Andrew is risking so much doing this against his father's will that I should like to know..."   An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and repeated requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on the princess' part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that he should disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what he felt rather than what he thought.   "I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing without knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; I can't analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I don't know. That is all one can say about her."   Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, that's what I expected and feared."   "Is she clever?" she asked.   Pierre considered.