War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (ebook reader for pc TXT) 📕

still stranger, though of this Prince Andréy said nothing to his sister, was that in the expression the sculptor had happened to give the angel’s face, Prince Andréy read the same mild reproach he had read on the face of his dead wife: “Ah, why have you done this to me?”

Soon after Prince Andréy’s return the old prince made over to him a large estate, Boguchárovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald Hills. Partly because of the depressing memories associated with Bald Hills, partly because Prince Andréy did not always feel equal to bearing with his father’s peculiarities, and partly because he needed solitude, Prince Andréy made use of Boguchárovo, began building and spent most of his time there.

After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andréy had firmly resolved not to continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his son seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old man, roused by activity, expected the best results from the new campaign, while Prince Andréy on the contrary, taking no part in the war and secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side.

On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits. Prince Andréy remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father’s absence. Little Nikolúshka had been unwell for four days. The coachman who had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and letters for Prince Andréy.

Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the letters to Princess Márya’s apartments, but did not find him there. He was told that the prince had gone to the nursery.

“If you please, your excellency, Pétrusha has brought some papers,” said one of the nursemaids to Prince Andréy who was sitting on a child’s little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he poured drops from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of water.

“What is it?” he said crossly, and, his hand shaking unintentionally, he poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the mixture onto the floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought it.

There were in the room a child’s cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a table, a child’s table, and the little chair on which Prince Andréy was sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was burning on the table, screened by a bound music book so that the light did not fall on the cot.

“My dear,” said Princess Márya, addressing her brother from beside the cot where she was standing, “better wait a bit⁠ ⁠… later⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things off⁠—and this is what comes of it!” said Prince Andréy in an exasperated whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister.

“My dear, really⁠ ⁠… it’s better not to wake him⁠ ⁠… he’s asleep,” said the princess in a tone of entreaty.

Prince Andréy got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, wineglass in hand.

“Perhaps we’d really better not wake him,” he said hesitating.

“As you please⁠ ⁠… really⁠ ⁠… I think so⁠ ⁠… but as you please,” said Princess Márya, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had prevailed. She drew her brother’s attention to the maid who was calling him in a whisper.

It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the boy who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their household doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, they had been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by sleeplessness and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one another and reproached and disputed with each other.

“Pétrusha has come with papers from your father,” whispered the maid.

Prince Andréy went out.

“Devil take them!” he muttered, and after listening to the verbal instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his father’s letter, he returned to the nursery.

“Well?” he asked.

“Still the same. Wait, for heaven’s sake. Karl Ivánich always says that sleep is more important than anything,” whispered Princess Márya with a sigh.

Prince Andréy went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot.

“Confound you and your Karl Ivánich!” He took the glass with the drops and again went up to the cot.

“André, don’t!” said Princess Márya.

But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his eyes, and stooped glass in hand over the infant.

“But I wish it,” he said. “I beg you⁠—give it him!”

Princess Márya shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively and calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed hoarsely. Prince Andréy winced and, clutching his head, went out and sat down on a sofa in the next room.

He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them mechanically he began reading. The old prince, now and then using abbreviations, wrote in his large elongated hand on blue paper as follows:

Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful news⁠—if it’s not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete victory over Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, and the rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a German⁠—I congratulate him! I can’t make out what the commander at Kórchevo⁠—a certain Khandrikóv⁠—is up to; till now the additional men and provisions have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say I’ll have his head off if everything is not here in a week. Have received another letter about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from Pétenka⁠—he took part in it⁠—and it’s all true. When mischief-makers don’t meddle even a German beats Buonaparte. He is said to be fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop off to Kórchevo without delay and carry out instructions!

Prince Andréy sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It was a closely written letter of two sheets from Bilíbin. He folded it up without reading it and reread his father’s