War and Peace by graf Leo Tolstoy (latest ebook reader .TXT) π
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- Author: graf Leo Tolstoy
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Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long time yet. He felt that he must not say it.
βI will do it all, Father,β he said.
βWell, now, good-by!β He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced him. βRemember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt me, your old father...β he paused unexpectedly, and then in a querulous voice suddenly shrieked: βbut if I hear that you have not behaved like a son of Nicholas BolkΓ³nski, I shall be ashamed!β
βYou need not have said that to me, Father,β said the son with a smile.
The old man was silent.
βI also wanted to ask you,β continued Prince Andrew, βif Iβm killed and if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from youβas I said yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please.β
βNot let the wife have him?β said the old man, and laughed.
They stood silent, facing one another. The old manβs sharp eyes were fixed straight on his sonβs. Something twitched in the lower part of the old princeβs face.
βWeβve said good-by. Go!β he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry voice, opening his door.
βWhat is it? What?β asked both princesses when they saw for a moment at the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white dressing gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice.
Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply.
βWell!β he said, turning to his wife.
And this βWell!β sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying: βNow go through your performance.β
βAndrew, already!β said the little princess, turning pale and looking with dismay at her husband.
He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder.
He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her face, and carefully placed her in an easy chair.
βAdieu, Mary,β said he gently to his sister, taking her by the hand and kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps.
The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, still looked with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through which Prince Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his direction. From the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent sound of the old man angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andrew gone when the study door opened quickly and the stern figure of the old man in the white dressing gown looked out.
βGone? Thatβs all right!β said he; and looking angrily at the unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed the door.
In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of the commander in chief, KutΓΊzov.
On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the locality and surroundingsβfruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and hills in the distanceβand despite the fact that the inhabitants (who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regiment preparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia.
On the evening of the last dayβs march an order had been received that the commander in chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or not, it was decided at a consultation between the battalion commanders to present the regiment in parade order, on the principle that it is always better to βbow too low than not bow low enough.β So the soldiers, after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long without closing their eyes, while the adjutants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and by morning the regimentβinstead of the straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day beforeβpresented a well-ordered array of two thousand men each of whom knew his place and his duty, had every button and every strap in place, and shone with cleanliness. And not only externally was all in order, but had it pleased the commander in chief to look under the uniforms he would have found on every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the appointed number of articles, βawl, soap, and all,β as the soldiers say. There was only one circumstance concerning which no one could be at ease. It was the state of the soldiersβ boots. More than half the menβs boots were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched some seven hundred miles.
The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new uniform showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold epaulettes which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive shoulders. He had the air of a man happily performing one of the most solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the line and at every step pulled himself up, slightly arching his back. It was plain that the commander admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and that his whole mind was engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to indicate that, besides military matters, social interests and the fair sex occupied no small part of his thoughts.
βWell, Michael MΓtrich, sir?β he said, addressing one of the battalion commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain that they both felt happy). βWe had our hands full last night. However, I think the regiment is not a bad one, eh?β
The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed.
βIt would not be turned off the field even on the TsarΓtsin Meadow.β
βWhat?β asked the commander.
At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had been posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an aide-de-camp followed by a Cossack.
The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander in chief wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on the march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation whatever.
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