[[英语园地]] 继续上《战争与和平》双语版

第二十五章

英文 


第二天黄昏，安德烈公爵要动身了。老公爵遵守生活秩序，午膳后走回自己房里去了。矮小的公爵夫人呆在小姑房里。安德烈公爵穿上旅行常礼服，没有佩戴带穗肩章，在拨给他住的房间里和他的侍仆一同收拾行装。他亲自察看了马车，把手提箱装进车厢，嗣后吩咐套马车。房里只剩下一些安德烈平日随身带着的物品：一只小匣子、一只银质旅行食品箱、两支土耳其手枪和一柄军刀——从奥恰科夫运来的父亲赠送的物品。安德烈公爵的全部旅行用品摆放得齐齐整整，完整无缺，全是崭新的，十分干净的，罩上了呢绒套，并用小带子仔细地捆住。

在即将动身和改变生活规律的时刻，凡善于反思自己行为的人常常会产生一种忧闷的心绪。在这种时刻，他们通常是检查往事，制订长远规划。安德烈公爵脸部流露出沉思和感伤的表情。他把手放在背后。从房间的一角向另一角迈着疾速的脚步，张开眼睛向身前望去，沉思默想地晃着脑袋。他莫非是害怕上战场，抑或是离开妻子而忧心忡忡，——也许二者兼而有之，显然，他只是不想让人家望见他有这种心境；他听见门斗里的步履声，就连忙放开倒背着的手，在桌旁停步了，好像正在捆扎匣子上的布套，脸上带有平常那种宁静和神秘莫测的表情。这时分，可以听见公爵小姐玛丽亚的沉重的步履声。

“有人告诉我，你已经吩咐套马了，”她上气不接下气地说道（显然她是跑步来的），“我心里很想和你单独地再谈一会。天知道我们又要别离多久啊。我走来，你不发脾气吧？安德留沙，你变得厉害啊。”她补充一句话，好像要解释这句问话似的。

她喊“安德留沙”这个名字时，脸部微露笑容。看来，她想到这个严肃的俊美的男人，正是那个消瘦的调皮的安德留沙，她幼年时代的朋友，心里觉得十分奇怪。

“丽莎在哪儿？”他问道，只以微微一笑来回答她的问话。

“她觉得非常疲倦，在我房里的长沙发上睡着了。啊，Andrè！Quéltresondefemmevousavez，”①她说道，一面在长兄对面的长沙发上坐下。“她完全是个小女孩，一个可爱的愉快的小女孩。我很喜爱她。”

安德烈公爵默不作声，可是公爵小姐发现他脸上流露出嘲讽的鄙夷的表情。

“应当宽宏大量地对待一些小缺点，安德烈，谁会没有缺点啊！你不要忘记，她是在上流社会中教育、长大成人的。而且她目前的境遇并不幸福。应当同情每个人的处境。Toutcomprendre，c'esttoutpardonner，②你想想，她过惯了这种生活之后，怎么能够和丈夫离别，孤零零地呆在农村，而且怀了孕，她这个可怜的女人心里有什么感受？这是非常痛苦的。”

①法语：安德烈，你的妻子太可贵了。

②法语：谁能理解一切，谁就会宽恕一切。


安德烈公爵望着妹妹，脸上露出笑意，就像我们听到我们似乎看透了的那些人说话时面露笑容一样。

“你在农村生活，可是你并不认为这种生活可怕。”他说道。

“我就不一样了。干嘛要谈论我啊！我不企求别的生活，而且不能抱有这种心愿，因为我不知道还有什么别的生活。安德烈，你要想想，一个年轻轻的上流社会的女人，在大好年华，孑然一人匿身于农村，因为爸爸总是忙得不可开交，而我……你是知道我的情况的……对一个习惯于上流社会生活的女人来说，我是多么可怜，多么enresources①，唯独布里安小姐……”

“我极不喜欢您那个布里安。”安德烈公爵说道。

“啊，不对，她很可爱，又和善，主要是，她是一个不幸的姑娘。她没有任何亲人。老实说，我不仅不需要她，而且她使我感到不方便。你知道我一向是个野蛮人，现在变本加厉了。我喜欢独处……monpeve②很喜欢她。爸爸亲热而慈善地对待这两个人——她和米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇，因为他们二人都获得他的恩泽，斯特恩说，我们与其爱那些向我们布善的人，毋宁爱那些领受我们布善的人。monpeve收留了她这个surlepavé③的孤儿。她十分和善，喜欢她朗读的风度。她每逢夜晚给他朗读。她读得非常动听。”

①法语：不快活。

②法语：爸爸。

③法语：被遗弃于街头。


“嘿，玛丽，说真的，我认为父亲的性情有时会使你觉得难受，对不对？”安德烈公爵忽然问道。

公爵小姐玛丽亚先是大为惊讶，然后就害怕他这句问话。

“我觉得？……我觉得？我觉得难受？”她说道。

“我认为，他一向都很专横，现在变得难以共处了。”安德烈公爵说道，看来他故意使妹妹难堪，或者想试探一下，才这样轻率地评论父亲的。

“你各个方面都表现得很好，安德烈，可是你有点自傲，”公爵小姐说道，她不太注意谈话的进程，过多地注意自己的思路，“这真是一大罪孽。岂可评论父亲？即令是可以，而像monpeve这样的人，只能令人vénération，”①，哪能引起另一种感情？与他相处，我很满意，很幸福！我只希望你们都像我这样幸福。

长兄疑惑地摇摇头。

“安德烈，有一件事使我觉得难受，我如实地告诉你，那就是父亲在宗教方面的观点。我不明了，一个非常聪明的人，怎能看不清显而易见的事，怎能误入迷途？这就是我的一大不幸。但是我近来看见了他有改善的迹象。近来他的嘲讽不那么恶毒了。有个僧侣来拜门，他接见了僧侣，并且一同谈了很久的话。”

“啊，我的亲人，我怕您和僧侣都白费劲。”安德烈公爵嘲讽地，但却亲热地说道。

“Ah！monami，②我只是祷告上帝，希望他能听见我的祷告，安德烈，”沉默片刻之后她羞怯地说道：“我有一件要紧的事求你。”

①法语：崇拜。

②法语：啊，我的朋友。


“我的亲人，求我做什么事？”

“请你答应我，你不会拒绝我的请求。在你心目中，这件事不用费吹灰之力，也不会使你有损于身分。你只是安慰我而已。安德留沙，请你答应吧，”她说了这句话便把手伸进女式手提包里，拿着一样东西，但是不让别人望见，好像她手上拿的东西正是她所请求的目标，在她的请求尚未获得允诺之前，她是不能从女式手提包里取出这样东西的。

她用央求的目光羞羞答答地望着长兄。

“即使我要花费很大的力气……”安德烈公爵答道，仿佛要猜中是怎么回事。

“你随意想什么都行！我知道你和monpeve都是同样的人。你随意想什么都行，可是你要替我办这件事。请你办妥这件事！我父亲的父亲，即是我们的祖父在南征北战中都随身带着这样东西……”她依旧没有从女式手提包里取出她手里拿着的东西。“你会答应我吗？”

“当然，究竟是怎么回事啊？”

“安德烈，我用神像为你祝福，你要答应我你永远不会把它取下来……答应吗？”

“既然它的重量不到两普特，就不会压疼脖子……要让你愉快……”安德烈公爵说道，但是，一当他发现妹妹听了这句戏言，脸上就流露出忧伤的神情，他顿时后悔起来，“我非常高兴，我的确十分高兴，我的亲人。”他补充一句。

“上帝必将依据你的意志拯救你，保佑你，使你倾向他，唯有在他身上才能获得真理和安慰，”她用激动得颤栗的嗓音说道，在长兄面前庄重地捧着一帧救世主像。这帧古式神像呈椭圆形，面色黧黑并饰以银袍，身上系有一条银链。

她在胸前画十字，吻了吻神像，便把它递给安德烈。

“安德烈，请你保存，为我……”

她的一双大眼睛善良而且羞怯地炯炯发光。这双大眼睛照耀着她那瘦削的病态的面孔，使它变得十分美丽了。长兄想要伸手去拿神像，但是她把他拦住了。安德烈心里明白，他便在胸前画了十字，吻了一下神像。同时他脸上带有温和（他深受感动）和嘲笑的表情。

“mercimonami．”①

①法语：我的朋友，我感谢你。


她吻吻他的额头，又在长沙发上坐下来。他们都沉默不言。

“安德烈，我对你说过，你要像平常那样慈善、宽宏大量，不要严厉地责难丽莎，”她开始说道，“她很可爱，很和善，目前她的境况非常困难。”

“玛莎，我似乎什么也没有对你说起我责备妻子或者对她表示不满的话。你干嘛老对我说起这件事呢？”

公爵小姐玛丽亚脸上红一阵，白一阵，她沉默起来了，仿佛觉得自己有过错似的。

“我一点也没有对你说，不过有人对你说了。这真使我伤脑筋。”

公爵小姐玛丽亚的额头、颈项和两颊上的斑斑红晕显得更红了。她心里很想说点什么话，可是说不出来。长兄猜中了，午饭后矮小的公爵夫人哭了一顿，说她预感到不幸的分娩，她害怕难产，埋怨自己的命运，埋怨老公公和丈夫。她痛哭一顿以后就睡着了。安德烈公爵怜悯起妹妹来了。

“玛莎，你要知道是这么回事，我没有什么可责备妻子的，以前没有责备，以后也永远不会责备她，在我对她的态度上，我并没有什么可责怪自己的地方。无论我处在何种情况下，我永远都是这样。但是，如果你很想知道真相，……你想知道我是否幸福？我并不幸福。她是否幸福？也不幸福。这究竟是什么？我不知道……”

他说话时，站起身来，走到他妹妹面前，弯下腰去，吻了一下她的额头。他那美丽的眼睛放射出不常见的明智而和善的光芒，但是，他并不望他妹妹，而是逾越她的头部望着黑洞洞的敞开的门户。

“我们到她那里去吧，应当向她告辞了！要不然，你一个人去吧，把她喊醒，我马上就来。彼得鲁什卡！”他向侍仆喊道，“到这里来，收拾东西吧。这件要放在座位里边，这件要放在右边。”

公爵小姐玛丽亚站起身来，向门边走去。这时她停住脚步了。

“André，sivousavezlafoi，vousvousseriezadresséàDieu，pourqu'ilvousdonnel'amourquevousnesentezpas，etvotrepriereauraiteteexaucee．”①

“是啊，真有这种事吗！”安德烈公爵说道，“玛莎，你去吧，我立刻就来。”

安德烈公爵去妹妹房间的途中，在连结甲乙两幢住宅的走廊里，碰见了笑容可掬的布里安小姐，是日她已经第三次露出天真而喜悦的笑意在冷冷清清的过道上和他邂逅相遇了。

“Ah！jevouscroyaischezvous，”②她说道，不知怎的涨红了脸，低垂着眼睛。

①法语：安德烈，如果你有一种信仰，你就会祈祷上帝，要他赐予你那种体会不到的爱，要上帝能听到你的祷告。

②法语：啊，我原来以为您在自己房里哩。


安德烈公爵严肃地瞟了她一眼，脸上顿时流露出狂怒的神色，他什么话也没有对她说，不屑望望她的眼睛，只朝她的额角和头发瞥视一下，眼神是那么鄙夷，以致这个法国女人满面通红，她一言未发便走开了。当他行走到妹妹门口的时候，公爵夫人睡醒了，门户洞开，从里面传来她那愉快的上句紧扣下句的话语声。她说起话来，就像长时间克制之后，现在很想要补偿失去的时光似的。

“Non，maisfigurezvous，lavieillecomtesseZouboffavecdefaussesbouclesetlabouchepleinedefaussesdents，commesiellevoulaitdefierlesannees…①玛丽，哈，哈，哈！”

安德烈公爵约莫有五次听见他妻子在旁人面前说伯爵夫人祖博娃的一些同样的闲话，还听见一串串同样的笑声。他悄悄地走进房来。略嫌肥胖、面颊绯红的公爵夫人坐在安乐椅上，手里拿着针线活儿，不住声地说话，一桩桩、一件件回忆彼得堡的往事，甚至回忆一句句的原话。安德烈向她跟前走来，摸摸她的头，问她旅途之余是不是得到休息。她应声回答，又继续说下去了。

①法语：不，你设想一下，老伯爵夫人祖博娃长着一头假发，一口假牙，好像在嘲笑自己的年纪似的……


六套马的四轮马车停在台阶前面。外面正是昏暗的秋夜。车夫望不见马车的辕轩。人们都手提灯笼在门廊里忙忙碌碌。一幢雄伟的住宅透过一扇扇高大的窗户反射出耀眼的灯光。仆人们都聚集在接待室里想跟年轻的公爵告别；家属：米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇、布里安小姐、公爵小姐玛丽亚和公爵夫人，一个个站在大客厅里。安德烈公爵被人叫到书斋去见父亲，父亲很想单独地跟他告别，他们正在等待着父子走出门来。

安德烈公爵走进书斋时，老公爵戴上老年人用的眼镜，穿着一件洁白的长衫，除开会见儿子之外，他从未穿过这件长衫接见任何人，这时公爵正坐在桌旁写字。他掉过头来望一眼。

“你要走了吗？”他又握着笔管写起字来。

“我来告辞了。”

“吻我这里吧，”他指指面颊，“谢谢，谢谢！”

“您为什么要谢我？”

“因为你没有稽延多日，没有纠缠着女人的衣裙。服兵役第一。谢谢，谢谢！”他继续写字，墨水飞溅，笔尖沙沙地作响。“若是要说什么话，你就说吧。我可以同一时间做两件事。”

他补充一句。

“关于我的老婆……我把她留了下来让您老人家操劳，我实在不好意思……”

“你瞎说什么？说你该说的话吧。”

“我老婆分娩的时候，请您派人去莫斯科请个产科男医生……叫他到这里来。”

老公爵停住了，好像没有听懂他的意思，他用严肃的目光凝视他儿子。

“我知道，假如大自然帮不了忙，那就没有谁能帮上忙的，”安德烈公爵说道，看来他感到困惑不安，“我所赞成的是，一百万件事例中通常只有一件是不幸的，但是，这真是她的幻觉，也是我的幻觉。别人对她瞎说了什么不该说的话，她做了恶梦，因此她心里十分畏惧。”

“嗯……嗯……”老公爵喃喃地说，一面继续把信写完，“我一定办妥。”

他签了字，忽然很快地把脸转向儿子，哈哈大笑了。

“事情糟糕透了，不是吗？”

“爸爸，什么事情糟糕透了？”

“你的老婆呀！”老公爵三言两语地、但却意味深长地说道。

“我不明了。”安德烈公爵说道。

“亲爱的人，这真是毫无办法的，”公爵说道，“她们都是一路的货色，是离不成婚的。你不要害怕，我决不对人说，可是你自己要知道。”

他用那瘦骨嶙峋的小手一把抓住儿子的手臂，晃了一下，用那仿佛是要把人看透的目光朝着儿子的面孔飞快地扫了一眼，然后又冷冷地笑了。

他儿子叹了一口气，表示他已承认父亲了解他。老年人用那习惯的敏捷的动作继续折叠并封上几封信，他飞快拿起火漆、戳子和信纸，之后又搁下来。

“怎么办。长得俊俏嘛！一切我都办妥，你放心好了。”他在封信时若断若续地说道。

安德烈沉默不言，父亲了解他，这使他觉得愉快，又觉得不愉快。老年人站起身来，把信递给他儿子。

“你听我说，”他说道，“不要替老婆操心，凡是可能办到的事，都一定办到。你听着：把这封信转交米哈伊尔·伊拉里奥诺维奇。我在信上写了，要他任用你，谋个好差事，不要让你老是当个副官，糟糕透了的职务啊！你告诉他，我还记得他，而且喜爱他。他怎样接待你，以后来信告诉我。假如他待人厚道，就干这个差事吧。尼古拉·安德烈耶维奇·博尔孔斯基的儿子因为不受恩赐，所以不肯在任何人麾下任职。喂，现在到这里来。”

他像放连珠炮似地说话，说不到半句就说完了，可是他儿子已经听惯了，懂得他的意思。他把他儿子领到旧式写字台前面，启开盖子，拉出写字台的抽屉，取出一个笔记本，他把这个笔记本写满了又粗又长又密的小字。

“我想必会死在你前头。你听我说，这里是我的回忆录，在我去世后，把它呈送国王，这里有一张债券和一封信：这里有奖励《苏沃洛夫战史》著述者的一笔奖金。把这些东西寄到科学院去。这里是我的诠注，在我去世后，你自己可以浏阅，从其中获得裨益。”

安德烈没有对父亲说，他想必还能活很久。他心里明白，这种话是用不着说的。

“爸爸，这一切我都能办妥。”他说道。

“好啦，再见吧！”他让他儿子吻吻他的手，然后拥抱自己的儿子。“安德烈公爵，有一点你要牢记在心，如果你被敌人打死，我这个老头子会感到非常悲痛的……”他出乎意料地默不作声，突然他用尖锐刺耳的嗓音继续说，“如果我知道你的行为不像尼古拉·博尔孔斯基的儿子，我就会……感到汗颜！”他突然用那小尖嗓儿叫了一声。

“爸爸，您可以不对我说这种话。”儿子面带微笑地说道。

老年人默不作声了。

“我还有求于您，”安德烈公爵继续说下去，“如果我被敌人打死，如果我将来有个儿子，请让他留在您身边，不要他离开，正如我昨天对您说的那样，让他在您这儿成长……请您照拂一下。”

“不把儿子交给老婆吗？”老年人说了这句话，大笑起来。

他们沉默不言，面对面地站着。老年人的敏锐的目光逼视着儿子的眼睛。老公爵的面颊的下部不知怎的颤抖了一下。

“辞别已经完毕了……你走吧！”他忽然说道。“你走吧！”

他把书斋门打开，提高嗓门怒气冲冲地喊道。

“究竟是怎么回事？怎么啦？”公爵夫人和公爵小姐望见了安德烈公爵和那身穿白长衫、未戴假发、戴着一副老年人用的眼镜、愤怒地吼叫的老年人匆匆探出来的身子，于是问道。

安德烈公爵叹了一口气，一声也没有回答。

“好啦，”他向妻子转过脸去说道。“好啦”这个词含有冷嘲热讽的意味，好像他是说：“您现在耍耍您的招儿吧。”

“Andredeja？”①矮小的公爵夫人说道，她脸色惨白，恐惧地望着丈夫。

他搂抱她。她尖叫一声，不省人事地倒在他的肩膀上。

他很小心地移开被她枕着的那只肩膀，望了望她的面孔，爱抚地扶她坐在安乐椅上。

“Adieu，marie，”②他轻声地对他妹妹说道，他和她互相吻吻手，从房里飞快走出来。

①法语：安德烈，怎么，告别完了吗？

②法语：玛丽亚，再见吧。


公爵夫人躺在安乐椅上，布里安小姐给她揉搓太阳穴。公爵小姐玛丽亚搀扶嫂嫂，她那双美丽的眼睛泪痕斑斑，还在望着安德烈公爵从那里走过的门口，她画着十字，为公爵祈祷祝福。书斋里多次地传出老头子的怒气冲冲的像射击似的擤鼻涕的声音。安德烈公爵刚刚走出去，书斋门很快就敞开了，从门里露出那个穿白色长衫的老年人的威严的身影。

“他走了吗？那就好了！”他说道，愤怒地望望不省人事的个子矮小的公爵夫人，他露出责备的神态摇摇头，砰的一声关上门了。

第一部分完结，第二部分待续

第二部分继续

CHAPTER I

Chinese


IN THE OCTOBER OF 1805 the Russian troops were occupying the towns and villages of the Austrian archduchy, and fresh regiments kept arriving from Russia and encamping about the fortress of Braunau, burdening the inhabitants on whom they were billeted. Braunau was the chief headquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov.


On the 11th of October 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, awaiting the inspection of the commander-in-chief. In spite of the un-Russian character of the country and the environment (the fruit gardens, the stone walls, the tiled roofs, the mountains in the distance, the foreign peasants, who looked with curiosity at the Russian soldiers), the regiment looked exactly as every Russian regiment always looks when it is getting ready for inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia. In the evening, on the last stage of the march, the order had been received that the commander-in-chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though the wording of the order did not seem quite clear to the general in command of the regiment, and the question arose whether they were to take it to mean, in marching order or not, it was decided on a consultation between the majors to present the regiment in parade order on the ground, since, as the saying is, it is better to bow too low than not to bow low enough. And the soldiers after a twenty-five mile march had not closed their eyes, but had spent the night mending and cleaning, while the adjutants and officers had been reckoning up and calculating. And by the morning the regiment, instead of the straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on the last march, the previous evening, presented the spectacle of an organised mass of two thousand men, of whom every one knew his part and his duty, and had every button and every strap in its proper position, and shining with cleanliness. It was not only the outside that was in good order; if the commander-in-chief should think fit to peep below the uniform, he would see on every man alike a clean shirt, and in every knapsack he would find the regulation number of articles. There was only one circumstance which no one could feel comfortable about. That was their foot-gear. More than half the soldiers had holes in their boots. But this deficiency was not due to any shortcoming on the part of their commanding officer, since in spite of his repeated demands the boots had not yet been granted him by the Austrian authorities, and the regiment had marched nearly a thousand miles.

The commander of the regiment was a sanguine-looking general past middle age, with grey whiskers and eyebrows, broad and thick-set, and thicker through from the chest to the back than across the shoulders. He wore a brand-new uniform with the creases still in it where it had been folded, and rich gold epaulettes, which seemed to stand up instead of lying down on his thick shoulders. The general had the air of a man who has successfully performed one of the most solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the line, and quivered as he walked, with a slight jerk of his back at each step. The general was unmistakably admiring his regiment, and happy in it, and it was evident that his whole brain was engrossed by the regiment. But for all that, his quivering strut seemed to say that, apart from his military interests, he had plenty of warmth in his heart for the attractions of social life and the fair sex.

“Well, Mihail Mitritch, sir,” he said, addressing a major (the major came forward smiling; they were evidently in excellent spirits).

“We have had our hands full all night…But it'll do, I fancy; the regiment's not so bad as some…eh?”

The major understood this good-humoured irony and laughed.

“Even on the Tsaritsyn review ground they wouldn't be turned off.”

“Eh?” said the commander.

At that moment two figures on horseback came into sight on the road from the town, where sentinels had been posted to give the signal. They were an adjutant, and a Cossack riding behind him.

The adjutant had been sent by the commander-in-chief to confirm to the commander what had not been clearly stated in the previous order, namely, that the commander-in-chief wished to inspect the regiment exactly in the order in which it had arrived—wearing their overcoats, and carrying their baggage, and without any sort of preparation.

A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had been with Kutuzov the previous day, proposing and demanding that he should move on as quickly as possible to effect a junction with the army of Archduke Ferdinand and Mack; and Kutuzov, not considering this combination advisable, had intended, among other arguments in support of his view, to point out to the Austrian general the pitiable condition in which were the troops that had arrived from Russia. It was with this object, indeed, that he had meant to meet the regiment, so that the worse the condition of the regiment, the better pleased the commander-in-chief would be with it. Though the adjutant did not know these details, he gave the general in command of the regiment the message that the commander-in-chief absolutely insisted on the men being in their overcoats and marching order, and that, if the contrary were the case, the commander-in-chief would be displeased.

On hearing this the general's head sank; he shrugged his shoulders, and flung up his hands with a choleric gesture.

“Here's a mess we've made of it,” he said. “Why, didn't I tell you, Mihail Mitritch, that on the march meant in their overcoats,” he said reproachfully to the major. “Ah, my God!” he added, and stepped resolutely forward. “Captains of the companies!” he shouted in a voice used to command. “Sergeants!… Will his excellency be coming soon?” he said, turning to the adjutant with an expression of respectful deference, that related obviously only to the person he was speaking of.

“In an hour's time, I believe.”

“Have we time to change clothes?”

“I can't say, general.…”

The general, going himself among the ranks, gave orders for the men to change back to their overcoats. The captains ran about among the companies, the sergeants bustled to and fro (the overcoats were not quite up to the mark), and instantaneously the squadrons, that had been in regular order and silent, were heaving to and fro, straggling apart and humming with talk. The soldiers ran backwards and forwards in all directions, stooping with their shoulders thrown back, drawing their knapsacks off over their heads, taking out their overcoats and lifting their arms up to thrust them into the sleeves.

Half an hour later everything was in its former good order again, only the squadrons were now grey instead of black. The general walked in front of the regiment again with his quivering strut, and scanned it from some distance.

“What next? what's this!” he shouted, stopping short. “Captain of the third company!”

“The captain of the third company to the general! The captain to the general of the third company to the captain!” … voices were heard along the ranks, and an adjutant ran to look for the tardy officer. When the sound of the officious voices, varying the command, and, by now, crying, “the general to the third company,” reached their destination, the officer called for emerged from behind his company, and, though he was an elderly man and not accustomed to running, he moved at a quick trot towards the general, stumbling awkwardly over the toes of his boots. The captain's face showed the uneasiness of a schoolboy who is called up to repeat an unlearnt lesson. Patches came out on his red nose (unmistakably due to intemperance), and he did not know how to keep his mouth steady. The general looked the captain up and down as he ran panting up, slackening his pace as he drew nearer.

“You'll soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What's the meaning of it?” shouted the general, thrusting out his lower jaw and pointing in the ranks of the third division to a soldier in an overcoat of a colour different from the rest. “Where have you been yourself? The commander-in-chief is expected, and you're not in your place? Eh? … I'll teach you to rig your men out in dressing-gowns for inspection! … Eh?”

The captain, never taking his eyes off his superior officer, pressed the peak of his cap more and more tightly with his two fingers, as though he saw in this compression his only hope of safety.

“Well, why don't you speak? Who's that dressed up like a Hungarian?” the general jested bitterly.

“Your excellency …”

“Well, what's your excellency? Your excellency! Your excellency! But what that means, your excellency, nobody knows.”

“Your excellency, that's Dolohov, the degraded officer,” the captain said softly.

“Well, is he degraded to be a field-marshal, or a common soldier? If he's a soldier, then he must be dressed like all the rest, according to regulation.”

“Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself on the march.”

“Gave him leave? There, you're always like that, you young men,” said the general, softening a little. “Gave him leave? If one says a word to you, you go and …” The general paused. “One says a word to you, and you go and…Eh?” he said with renewed irritation. “Be so good as to clothe your men decently.…”

And the general, looking round at the adjutant, walked with his quivering strut towards the regiment. It was obvious that he was pleased with his own display of anger, and that, walking through the regiment, he was trying to find a pretext for wrath. Falling foul of one officer for an unpolished ensign, of another for the unevenness of the rank, he approached the third company.

“How are you standing? Where is your leg? Where is your leg?” the general shouted with a note of anguish in his voice, stopping five men off Dolohov, who was wearing his blue overcoat. Dolohov slowly straightened his bent leg, and looked with his clear, insolent eyes straight in the general's face.

“Why are you in a blue coat? Off with it!…Sergeant! change his coat…the dir…” Before he had time to finish the word—

“General, I am bound to obey orders, but I am not bound to put up with…” Dolohov hastened to say.

“No talking in the ranks! … No talking, no talking!”

“Not bound to put up with insults,” Dolohov went on, loudly and clearly. The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general paused, angrily pulling down his stiff scarf.

“Change your coat, if you please,” he said as he walked away.

第一章

英文 


一八○五年十月间，俄国军队侵占了奥国大公管辖的几个大村庄和城市，一些新兵团又从俄国开来，驻扎在布劳瑙要塞附近的地方，因而加重了居民的负担。库图佐夫总司令的大本营也坐落在布劳瑙。

一八○五年十月十一日，刚刚抵达布劳瑙的步兵团在离城市半英里处扎营，听候总司令检阅军队。尽管地形和周围环境（果园、石砌的围墙、瓦房盖、远处望得见的山峦）与俄罗斯迥然不同，尽管非俄罗斯民众怀着好奇心观望着士兵，但是，这个兵团的外貌，却和俄罗斯中部任何地区任何一个准备接受检阅的俄国兵一模一样。

那天傍晚，在最近一次行军的路上，接到了一项关于总司令检阅行军中的兵团的命令。虽然团长不太明了命令中的措词，出现了应当怎样领会措词的问题：士兵是不是穿上行军的服装接受检阅？而在营长会议上，遵照以礼相待的准则，决定兵团的士兵穿上阅兵服接受检阅。于是在三十俄里的行军之后，士兵们目不交睫，彻夜缝补衣裳，洗濯污秽；副官和连长命令士兵报数，清除一部分人。次日清晨，这个兵团已经不是最近一次行军的前夜那样松松垮垮的乌合之众，而是一支拥有两千人众的排列整齐的军队，每个人都熟谙自己的位置和任务，每个人的每个纽扣和每根皮带都位于原处，洁净得闪闪发亮。而且不仅是外面穿的军装没有破烂不堪，如果总司令要察看军装里面，他就会看到每个人都穿着一件同样干净的衬衫，他也会发现每只背袋里都装有一定数量的物件，正像士兵们说的那样，“锥子、肥皂，应有尽有。”人人都认为，只有一件事令人心烦，那就是鞋子问题。士兵们的皮靴多半穿破了。但是这个缺点不能归咎于团长。虽然多次提出要求，奥国主管部门并没有把军需品拨给团长，而这个兵团走了一千俄里路了。

这个团长是个易于激动的、须眉均已苍白的渐近老境的将军，他体格结实，胸背之间的宽度大于左右两肩之间的宽度。他身穿一套新缝制的带有一溜溜褶痕的军装，镀金的肩章挺厚，好像没有压低他那肥胖的肩膀，而是使它隆起来。团长的那副样子，就像某人正在顺利地完成一项平生最庄严的事业似的。他在队列前面慢慢地走动，有点儿弯腰曲背，走动时微微发抖，看起来，这个团长非常欣赏自己的兵团，因为他居于一团之首而感到幸福，他把全部精力都投入这个兵团了。尽管如此，他那微微发抖的步态仿佛说明，他除开对军事颇感兴趣，对上流社会的生活方式和女性的兴趣在他灵魂深处也占有相当重要的地位。

“喂，老兄，米哈伊洛·米特里奇，”他把脸转向一个营长，说道（这营长微微一笑，向前移动一步，看上去他们都很走运），“夜里我们都挨责备了。可是，似乎还不错，我们的兵团不是劣等的……啊，不是吗？”

营长听懂了这句令人开心的讽刺话，笑起来了。

“就是在察里津草地举行阅兵式，也不会有人把我们赶出去的。”

“什么？”那团长说道。

这时候，在那分布着信号兵的直通城市的大道上，有两个骑马的人出现了，一个是副官，另一个是跟随身后的哥萨克。

副官是由总司令部派来向团长阐明昨天发布的命令中模糊不清的措词的，即是阐明，总司令意欲看见一个完全处于行军状态的兵团——穿军大衣，罩上外套，不作任何检阅准备。

前一天，奥国军事参议院有一名参议员由维也纳前来叩见库图佐夫，建议并要求俄国军队尽速与费迪南大公和马克的部队汇合，但是库图佐夫认为这种汇合并无裨益，所以，他在摆出可作为他的观点的佐证时，还试图请那位奥国将军目睹一下来自俄国的军队的凄惨情状。他愿意前来与兵团士兵会面，就是要臻达这个目的；因此，兵团的处境愈益恶劣，总司令就愈益高兴。尽管那个副官不熟悉详情，但他已向团长转达了非履行不可的总司令的要求，即是士兵必须穿军大衣，罩上外套，不然，总司令就会表示不满意的。

团长听了这些话后垂下头来，默不作声地耸耸肩膀，很激动地把两手一摊。

“胡作非为啊！”他说道。“米哈伊洛·米特里奇，我不是跟你说过，在行军中，就是要穿军大衣，”他指责营长，“唉呀！我的天！”他补充一句话，就很坚定地向前走去。“诸位，连长！”他用那惯于发口令的嗓音喊道。“上士！……他即将光临？”他流露出恭恭敬敬的神情面对前来的副官说道。看来是为他所提起的那人，他才面带这种表情的。

“我认为要过一个钟头。”

“还来得及换衣服吗？”

“将军，我不晓得……”

这个团长亲自走到了队列的前面，吩咐士兵们重新穿上军大衣。连长各自奔回连部，上士们开始忙碌起来了（一部分大衣未予缝补，不太完整），就在这一刹那间，那些原先既整齐而又肃静的四边形队列开始蠕动、松散，喧哗不已。士兵从四面八方来回奔走，一个个向前耸起肩膀，绕过头上取下行军用的背袋，脱下军大衣，抬起一双手伸进衣袖中。

过了半个钟头，一切恢复了原有的秩序，只有四边形队列已由黑色变成灰色的了。团长又用那微微发抖的步态走到兵团的前面，从远处望它一眼。

“这又是什么名堂？这是什么名堂？”他在停步之时喊，“第三连连长！……”

“传呼第三连连长去见将军，传呼连长去见将军，传呼第三连连长去见团长！……”一列列队伍都听见传呼的声音，一名副官跑去寻找那个磨磨蹭蹭的军官。

这些费劲传呼的声音越传越不对头，在传到被传者的耳鼓时，原话已经变成“将军被传到第三连”了。这名被传的军官从连部后面窜出来，他虽然是个已过中年的男人，不习惯于跑步，但他还是步履踉跄，磕磕绊绊地快步走到将军面前。上尉那种惶惑不安的神色，就像有人叫一个没有学会功课的学生回答问题似的。他那显然由于饮酒无度而发红的脸上现出了斑点，嘴巴撇得合不拢了。他走到团长近侧，放慢了脚步，当他气喘吁吁走到团长面前时，团长从头到脚把他打量一番。

“您很快要给士兵们换上长袍了！这是什么名堂？”团长喊道，他用下颔指了指第三连的队伍中的一个穿着与别人的军大衣截然不同的厂呢色军大衣的士兵，“您刚才呆在哪儿？预料总司令就要到了，而您擅自离开岗位，啊，不是吗？……我要教训您一顿，干嘛要让士兵们穿上卡萨金去接受检阅！

……啊，不是吗？

连长眼巴巴地望着首长，他把两个指头按在帽檐上，越按越紧，好像他认为这会儿只有按帽檐行礼才能得救似的。

“喂，您为什么不开腔？您这儿有一个装扮成匈牙利人的是谁呀？”团长带着严肃的神色，开玩笑说。

“大人……”

“喂，什么‘大人'？大人！大人！可是谁不知道‘大人'是什么。”

“大人，他是受降级处分的多洛霍夫……”上尉轻声地说道。

“怎么？他被贬为元帅，是不是？还是贬为士兵呢？士兵就应当像大家一样穿军装。”

“大人，您亲自准许他在行军时可以穿这种衣服。”

“我准许的么？我准许的么？你们这些年轻人总是这个样子，”团长有几分冷静地说道。“我准许的么？对你们随便说句什么话，你们就……怎么？”他怒气冲冲地说道，“请让士兵们穿着得体面一点……”

团长掉过头来望望副官，他又用那微微发抖的步态向兵团的队伍走去。可见他很喜欢大发脾气，在这个兵团的队伍中走了一阵之后，他想再找一个大发脾气的借口。他威吓一个军官，因为这个军官戴着尚未擦亮的奖章，又威吓另一个军官，因为他带的队伍不整齐，之后他就向第三连走去。

“你是怎——样站的？脚放在哪里？脚放在哪里？”离那个身穿浅蓝色军大衣的多洛霍夫莫约有五人间隔的地方，团长就用含有痛楚的嗓音喊道。

多洛霍夫把他那弯着的腿慢慢地伸直，用炯炯发亮的放肆无礼的目光朝将军的面孔瞥了一眼。

“干嘛要穿蓝色的军大衣？脱掉！……上士！给他换衣服……坏东西……”团长还没有把话说完，多洛霍夫就急急忙忙地说道：

“将军，我必须执行命令。但是，我不应该忍受……”

“在队伍里不要闲扯！……不要闲扯，不要闲扯！……”

“我不应该忍受屈辱。”多洛霍夫用那洪亮的嗓音把话说完了。

将军和士兵的视线相遇了。将军怒气冲冲地向下拉着那条系得紧紧的腰带，他沉默起来了。

“请您换换衣服吧，我请求您。”他走开时说道。

CHAPTER II

Chinese


“COMING!” the sentinel shouted at that moment. The general, turning red, ran to his horse, with trembling hands caught at the stirrup, swung himself up, settled himself in the saddle, drew out his sword, and with a pleased and resolute face opened his mouth on one side, in readiness to shout. The regiment fluttered all over, like a bird preening its wings, and subsided into stillness.

“Silence!” roared the general, in a soul-quaking voice, expressing at once gladness on his own account, severity as regards the regiment, and welcome as regards the approaching commander-in-chief.

A high, blue Vienna coach with several horses was driving at a smart trot, rumbling on its springs, along the broad unpaved high-road, with trees planted on each side of it. The general's suite and an escort of Croats galloped after the coach. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general in a white uniform, that looked strange among the black Russian ones. The coach drew up on reaching the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking of something in low voices, and Kutuzov smiled slightly as, treading heavily, he put his foot on the carriage step, exactly as though those two thousand men gazing breathlessly at him and at their general, did not exist at all.

The word of command rang out, again the regiment quivered with a clanking sound as it presented arms. In the deathly silence the weak voice of the commander-in-chief was audible. The regiment roared: “Good health to your Ex .. lency .. lency .. lency!” And again all was still. At first Kutuzov stood in one spot, while the regiment moved; then Kutuzov began walking on foot among the ranks, the white general beside him, followed by his suite.

From the way that the general in command of the regiment saluted the commander-in-chief, fixing his eyes intently on him, rigidly respectful and obsequious, from the way in which, craning forward, he followed the generals through the ranks, with an effort restraining his quivering strut, and darted up at every word and every gesture of the commander-in-chief,—it was evident that he performed his duties as a subordinate with even greater zest than his duties as a commanding officer. Thanks to the strictness and assiduity of its commander, the regiment was in excellent form as compared with the others that had arrived at Braunau at the same time. The sick and the stragglers left behind only numbered two hundred and seventeen, and everything was in good order except the soldiers' boots.

Kutuzov walked through the ranks, stopping now and then, and saying a few friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, and sometimes to the soldiers. Looking at their boots, he several times shook his head dejectedly, and pointed them out to the Austrian general with an expression as much as to say that he blamed no one for it, but he could not help seeing what a bad state of things it was. The general in command of the regiment, on every occasion such as this, ran forward, afraid of missing a single word the commander-in-chief might utter regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at such a distance that every word, even feebly articulated, could be heard, followed his suite, consisting of some twenty persons. These gentlemen were talking among themselves, and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a handsome adjutant. It was Prince Bolkonsky. Beside him was his comrade Nesvitsky, a tall staff-officer, excessively stout, with a good-natured, smiling, handsome face, and moist eyes. Nesvitsky could hardly suppress his mirth, which was excited by a swarthy officer of hussars walking near him. This officer, without a smile or a change in the expression of his fixed eyes, was staring with a serious face at the commanding officer's back, and mimicking every movement he made. Every time the commanding officer quivered and darted forward, the officer of hussars quivered and darted forward in precisely the same way. Nesvitsky laughed, and poked the others to make them look at the mimic.

Kutuzov walked slowly and listlessly by the thousands of eyes which were almost rolling out of their sockets in the effort to watch him. On reaching the third company, he suddenly stopped. The suite, not foreseeing this halt, could not help pressing up closer to him.

“Ah, Timohin!” said the commander-in-chief, recognising the captain with the red nose who had got into trouble over the blue overcoat.

One would have thought it impossible to stand more rigidly erect than Timohin had done when the general in command of the regiment had made his remarks to him; but at the instant when the commander-in-chief addressed him, the captain stood with such erect rigidity that it seemed that, were the commander-in-chief to remain for some time looking at him, the captain could hardly sustain the ordeal, and for that reason Kutuzov, realising his position, and wishing him nothing but good, hurriedly turned away. A scarcely perceptible smile passed over Kutuzov's podgy face, disfigured by the scar of a wound.

“Another old comrade at Ismail!” he said. “A gallant officer! Are you satisfied with him?” Kutuzov asked of the general in command.

And the general, all unconscious that he was being reflected as in a mirror in the officer of hussars behind him, quivered, pressed forward, and answered: “Fully, your most high excellency.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” said Kutuzov, smiling and walking away from him. “He had a predilection for Bacchus.”

The general in command was afraid that he might be to blame for this, and made no answer. The officer of hussars at that instant noticed the face of the captain with the red nose, and the rigidly drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his face and attitude in such a life-like manner that Nesvitsky could not restrain his laughter. Kutuzov turned round. The officer could apparently do anything he liked with his face; at the instant Kutuzov turned round, the officer had time to get in a grimace before assuming the most serious, respectful, and innocent expression.

The third company was the last, and Kutuzov seemed pondering, as though trying to recall something. Prince Andrey stepped forward and said softly in French: “You told me to remind you of the degraded officer, Dolohov, serving in the ranks in this regiment.”

“Where is Dolohov?” asked Kutuzov.

Dolohov, attired by now in the grey overcoat of a private soldier, did not wait to be called up. The slender figure of the fair-haired soldier, with his bright blue eyes, stepped out of the line. He went up to the commander-in-chief and presented arms.

“A complaint to make?” Kutuzov asked with a slight frown.

“This is Dolohov,” said Prince Andrey.

“Ah!” said Kutuzov. “I hope this will be a lesson to you, do your duty thoroughly. The Emperor is gracious. And I shall not forget you, if you deserve it.”

The bright blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief just as impudently as at the general of his regiment, as though by his expression tearing down the veil of convention that removed the commander-in-chief so far from the soldier.

“The only favour I beg of your most high excellency,” he said in his firm, ringing, deliberate voice, “is to give me a chance to atone for my offence, and to prove my devotion to his majesty the Emperor, and to Russia.”

Kutuzov turned away. There was a gleam in his eyes of the same smile with which he had turned away from Captain Timohin. He turned away and frowned, as though to express that all Dolohov had said to him and all he could say, he had known long, long ago, that he was sick to death long ago of it, and that it was not at all what was wanted. He turned away and went towards the coach.

The regiment broke into companies and went towards the quarters assigned them at no great distance from Braunau, where they hoped to find boots and clothes, and to rest after their hard marches.

“You won't bear me a grudge, Proho Ignatitch?” said the commanding general, overtaking the third company and riding up to Captain Timohin, who was walking in front of it. The general's face beamed with a delight he could not suppress after the successful inspection. “It's in the Tsar's service … can't be helped … sometimes one has to be a little sharp at inspection. I'm the first to apologise; you know me.… He was very much pleased.” And he held out his hand to the captain.

“Upon my word, general, as if I'd make so bold,” answered the captain, his nose flushing redder. He smiled, and his smile revealed the loss of two front teeth, knocked out by the butt-end of a gun at Ismail.

“And tell Dolohov that I won't forget him; he can be easy about that. And tell me, please, what about him, how's he behaving himself … I've been meaning to inquire…”

“He's very exact in the discharge of his duties, your excellency … but he's a character …” said Timohin.

“Why, what sort of a character?” asked the general.

“It's different on different days, your excellency,” said the captain; “at one time he's sensible and well-educated and good-natured. And then he'll be like a wild beast. In Poland, he all but killed a Jew, if you please.…”

“Well, well,” said the general, “still one must feel for a young man in trouble. He has great connections, you know.… So you …”

“Oh, yes, your excellency,” said Timohin, with a smile that showed he understood his superior officer's wish in the matter.

“Very well, then, very well.”

The general sought out Dolohov in the ranks and pulled up his horse.

“In the first action you may win your epaulettes,” he said to him.

Dolohov looked round and said nothing. There was no change in the lines of his ironically-smiling mouth.

“Well, that's all right then,” the general went on. “A glass of brandy to every man from me,” he added, so that the soldiers could hear. “I thank you all. God be praised!” And riding round the company, he galloped off to another.

“Well, he's really a good fellow, one can get on very well under him,” said Timohin to the subaltern officer walking beside him.

“The king of hearts, that's the only word for him,” the subaltern said, laughing. (The general was nicknamed the king of hearts.)

The cheerful state of mind of the officers after the inspection was shared by the soldiers. The companies went along merrily. Soldiers' voices could be heard on all sides chatting away.

“Why, don't they say Kutuzov's blind in one eye?”

“To be sure he is. Quite blind of one eye.”

“Nay … lads, he's more sharp-eyed than you are. See how he looked at our boots and things.” …

“I say, mate, when he looked at my legs … well, thinks I …”

“And the other was an Austrian with him, that looked as if he'd been chalked all over. As white as flour. I bet they rub him up as we rub up our guns.”

“I say, Fedeshou … did he say anything as to when the battles are going to begin? You stood nearer. They did say Bonaparte himself was in Brunovo.”

“Bonaparte! What nonsense the fellow talks! What won't you know next! Now it's the Prussian that's revolting. The Austrian, do you see, is pacifying him. When he's quiet, then the war will begin with Bonaparte. And he talks of Bonaparte's being in Brunovo! It's plain the fellow's a fool. You'd better keep your ears open.”

“Those devils of quartermasters! … The fifth company's turned into the village by now, and they're cooking their porridge, and we're not there yet.”

“Give us a biscuit, old man.”

“And did you give me tobacco yesterday? All right, my lad. Well, well, God be with you.”

“They might have made a halt, or we'll have to do another four miles with nothing to eat.”

“I say, it was fine how those Germans gave us carriages. One drove along, something like.”

“But here, lads, the folks are regularly stripped bare. There it was all Poles of some sort, all under the Russian crown, but now we've come to the regular Germans, my boy.”

“Singers to the front,” the captain called. And from the different ranks about twenty men advanced to the front. The drummer, who was their leader, turned round facing the chorus and waving his arm, struck up a soldier's song, beginning: “The sun was scarcely dawning,” and ending with the words: “So, lads, we'll march to glory with Father Kamensky.” … This song had been composed in Turkey, and now was sung in Austria, the only change being the substitution of the words “Father Kutuzov” for “Father Kamensky.”

Jerking out the last words in soldierly fashion and waving his arms, as though he were flinging something on the ground, the drummer, a lean, handsome soldier of forty, looked sternly at the soldier-chorus and frowned. Then, having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed upon him, he gesticulated, as though he were carefully lifting some unseen precious object over his head in both hands, holding it there some seconds, and all at once with a desperate movement flinging it away.

“Ah, the threshold of my cottage,
My new cottage.”
Here twenty voices caught up the refrain, and the castanet player, in spite of the weight of his weapon and knapsack, bounded nimbly forward, and walked backwards facing the company, shaking his shoulders, and seeming to menace some one with the castanets. The soldiers stepped out in time to the song, swinging their arms and unconsciously falling into step. Behind the company came the sound of wheels, the rumble of springs, and the tramp of horses. Kutuzov and his suite were going back to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign for the soldiers to go on freely, and he and all his suite looked as though they took pleasure in the sound of the singing, and the spectacle of the dancing soldier and the gaily, smartly marching men. In the second row from the right flank, beside which the carriage passed, they could not help noticing the blue-eyed soldier, Dolohov, who marched with a special jauntiness and grace in time to the song, and looked at the faces of the persons driving by with an expression that seemed to pity every one who was not at that moment marching in the ranks. The cornet of hussars, the officer of Kutuzov's suite, who had mimicked the general, fell back from the carriage and rode up to Dolohov.

The cornet of hussars, Zherkov, had at one time belonged to the fast set in Petersburg, of which Dolohov had been the leader. Zherkov had met Dolohov abroad as a common soldier, and had not seen fit to recognise him. But now, after Kutuzov's conversation with the degraded officer, he addressed him with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Friend of my heart, how are you?” he said, through the singing, making his horse keep pace with the marching soldiers.

“How am I?” Dolohov answered coldly. “As you see.” The lively song gave a peculiar flavour to the tone of free-and-easy gaiety, with which Zherkov spoke, and the studied coldness of Dolohov's replies.

“Well, how do you get on with your officers?” asked Zherkov.

“All right; they're good fellows. How did you manage to poke yourself on to the staff?”

“I was attached; I'm on duty.”

They were silent.

“My gay goshawk I took with me,
From my right sleeve I set him free,”
said the song, arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their conversation would most likely have been different, if they had not been talking while the song was singing.

“Is it true, the Austrians have been beaten?” asked Dolohov.

“Devil knows; they say so.”

“I'm glad,” Dolohov made a brief, sharp reply, as was required to fit in with the tune.

“I say, come round to us some evening; we'll have a game of faro,” said Zherkov.

“Is money so plentiful among you?”

“Do come.”

“I can't; I've sworn not to. I won't drink or play till I'm promoted.”

“Well, but in the first action …”

“Then we shall see.” Again they paused.

“You come, if you want anything; one can always be of use on the staff.…”

Dolohov grinned. “Don't trouble yourself. What I want, I'm not going to ask for; I take it for myself.”

“Oh, well, I only …”

“Well, and I only.”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

“And far and free
To his own country.”
Zherkov put spurs to his horse, which three times picked up its legs excitedly, not knowing which to start from, then galloped off round the company, and overtook the carriage, keeping time too to the song.

第二章

英文 


“总司令来了！”这时信号兵喊道。

团长脸红了，跑到了马儿前面。他用巍颤颤的手抓住马镫，纵身上马，稳定身子，拔出了军刀。他面带欣喜而坚定的神情，撇着张开的嘴，准备喊口令。整个兵团就像梳平毛羽、振翅欲飞的鸟，抖抖身子，就屏住气息，一动不动了。

“立——正！”团长用震撼人心的嗓音喊道，这声音对他表示欢乐，对兵团表示森严，对前来检阅的首长表示迎迓之意。

几匹马纵列驾着的高大的天蓝色的维也纳轿式四轮马车，沿着没有铺砌路面的宽阔的周围种满树木的大路，奔驰而至，马车的弹簧发出轻微的隆隆响声。侍从们和克罗地亚人的护卫队乘坐轻骑在车后疾驰。一个奥国将军坐在库图佐夫近旁，他身穿一套在俄国人的黑军装之中显得稀奇古怪的白军装。四轮轿式马车在兵团的队列前停下来。库图佐夫和奥国将军轻声地谈论什么事情，库图佐夫微露笑容，当他迈着沉重的步子，从踏板上把腿伸下的时候，俨如他面前并无二千名屏住气息谛视着他和团长的士兵似的。

传来了口令声，兵团的队伍又颤动了，一齐举枪致敬，发出铿锵的响声。在那死一般的肃穆中，总司令的微弱的说话声清晰可闻。全团的士兵拉开了嗓子喊道：“大——人——健康长寿！”全体又屏息不动了。开初，当兵团的队伍行进时，库图佐夫站在一个位置上不动。然后，他和那身穿白军装的将军，在侍从的伴随之下，并排地沿着队列开始徒步检阅。

从团长挺直胸膛、衣着整齐、姿态端正、眼睛谛视总司令举手行军礼来看，从他勉强抑制住微微发抖的步态、身体向前微倾、跟随着二位将军沿着队列徒步检阅来看，从他听见总司令每说一句话，看见总司令每作一次手势就跑上前去唯唯诺诺来看，他履行下属的职务，较诸于履行首长的职务，更能得心应手。与那些同时抵达布劳瑙的兵团相比较，这个兵团由于团长的严厉和勤奋而居于至为优越的地位。掉队者和病号只有二百一十七人。除皮靴而外，其余一切都完整无缺。

库图佐夫沿着队列走过去了。有时停步对他在土耳其战争中认识的军官们说上几句密切的话，有时也对士兵们说几句话。当他望着皮靴时，他有好几回忧郁地摇头，并指着皮靴让奥国将军看看，他那表情能说明，在这件事上他似乎不想责备任何人，但却不能不目睹这种恶劣的情形。每当这时团长就向前跑去，深怕没听见总司令谈论这个兵团的每句话。在每句低声道出的话语都能听见的距离以内，约莫有二十名侍从跟随在库图佐夫身后。侍从先生们互相交谈，有时候发出笑声。一个长得漂亮的副官紧紧地跟着总司令，相隔的距离很近，他就是博尔孔斯基公爵，他的同事涅斯维茨基校官和他并肩同行，他身材魁梧，格外肥胖，长着一张美丽、善良和笑容可掬的脸，一对水汪汪的眼睛，一个面孔有点黧黑的骠骑军官在涅斯维茨基旁边走着，把他逗弄得几乎忍不住要笑。那个骠骑军官没有露出微笑，严肃地用那呆滞的目光望着团长的脊背，滑稽地摹仿团长的每个动作。每当团长微微发抖、向前弯腰的时候，那个骠骑军官就同样地、不爽毫厘地发抖、弯腰。涅斯维茨基一面发笑，一面推撞别人，让他们也来观看这个好逗笑的人。

库图佐夫无精打采地、脚步缓慢地从几千对瞪着眼珠谛视着首长的眼睛旁边走过去。走到第三连近侧的时候，他忽然停步了。侍从们没有预见到他会停步，不由地朝地拥上来。

“啊，季莫欣！”总司令说道，认出了那个因身穿蓝色军大衣而尝到苦头的红鼻子上尉。

季莫欣在团长责备他的时候身子似乎挺得不能再直了。但是，在总司令和他谈话的这个时刻，他把身子挺得更直了。看起来，若是总司令再多望他一会儿，他就会忍受不住了。库图佐夫显然明了上尉的这种窘态，他心中祝愿上尉诸事吉祥，话音一落地就连忙转过脸去。库图佐夫那张因负伤而变得丑陋的胖得发圆的脸上，掠过一丝难以觉察的微笑。

“还有个伊兹梅尔战役的同志，”他说道。“是个勇敢的军官啊！你满意他吗？”库图佐夫向团长问道。

团长在骠骑军官身上的反映，就像照镜子那样，只是团长自己看不见。团长颤栗了一下，向前走去，答道：

“大人，我很满意。”

“我们大家并不是没有弱点，”库图佐夫说道，面露微笑，从他身边走开了。“他忠实于巴克斯”①。

①巴克斯就是罗马神话中的酒神。


团长吓了一跳，这是否就是他的罪过，他什么话也没有回答。这时候军官看见了鼻子发红、腹部收缩的上尉的面孔，就模仿他的面部表情和姿态，模仿得像极了，以致涅斯维茨基不禁笑出声来。库图佐夫扭过头来。看样子，军官能够随心所欲地控制自己的面部表情，当库图左夫扭过头来的刹那间，他装出一副鬼脸，旋即露出至为严肃的毕恭毕敬的纯洁无瑕的表情。

第三连是最后一个连。库图佐夫沉思起来，显然他想起什么事情。安德烈公爵从侍从们中间走出来，用法国话轻声地说道：

“您吩咐我提醒您一件关于本团内受降级处分的多洛霍夫的事情。”

“多洛霍夫在哪里？”库图佐夫问道。

多洛霍夫换上一件士兵的灰军大衣，焦急地等待有人召唤他。一个身材匀称、浅色头发、一对蓝眼睛闪闪发光的士兵从队列中走出来了。他向总司令面前走去，举枪敬礼。

“你有要求吗？”库图佐夫微微地蹙起额头，问道。

“他就是多洛霍夫。”安德烈公爵说道。

“啊！”库图佐夫说道，“我希望这场教训会使你纠正错误，好好地服役。国王是很慈悲的。你只要立功，我就不会把你忘记。”

那双闪闪发光的蓝眼睛放肆地望着总司令，就像正视着团长那样，他好像要用他的表情去冲破那层把总司令和士兵远远分开的隔幕。

“大人，有一件事我要求您，”他用那洪亮、坚定、从容不迫的嗓音说道，“我求您给我一个赎罪的机会，证明我对国王和俄国的一片忠心。”

库图佐夫转过脸来，正如他向季莫欣转过脸来一样，他脸上掠过一丝含在眼中的微笑。他转过脸来，蹙一阵额头，好像他想表明，多洛霍夫对他所说的种种情形，以及多洛霍夫对他可能说到的种种情形，他老早老早就心中有数了，这一切使他厌倦，都是一些根本用不着说的话。他转过头来，向马车面前走去了。

一团人按连站队开往布劳瑙附近指定的驻地，希望在那里能给自己弄到皮靴和军服，在艰苦的行军之后休息休息。

“普罗霍尔·伊格纳季奇，您不会抱怨我吧？”团长骑在马上绕过向营盘走去的第三连官兵，向带领连队的季莫欣上尉面前直奔而去，对他说道，在顺利举行阅兵式之后，团长脸上不禁流露出欣快。“为沙皇效劳……不可以乱来……我有时会在队列中威吓你们一通……我先来道歉，您是知道我的……我十分感谢！”他于是向连长伸出手来。

“将军，哪能呢，我怎敢埋怨您呀！”上尉答道，他的鼻子涨红了，面露微笑，微笑时张开他在伊兹梅尔城下被枪托打落两颗门牙的缺口。

“请转告多洛霍夫先生，我决不会忘记他，要他放心好了。请您告诉我，我总想问您，他怎么样？操行端正么？各方面的表现……”

“大人，他努力工作……可是性格……”季莫欣说道。

“怎么？性格怎么样？”团长问道。

“大人，天天不一样，”上尉说道，“有时候很聪明，有学问，待人和善。有时候不然，他变成野兽了。他在波兰本来打死了一个犹太人……您要知道……”

“是呀，是呀，”团长说道，“还是要怜悯怜悯这个不幸的青年。要知道，他交际广阔，情谊深厚……所以您要……”

“大人，遵命。”季莫欣说道，他面露微笑，表示他明了首长的意愿。

“是呀，是呀。”

团长在队列中找到了多洛霍夫，并且把马勒住了。

“作战前先发肩章。”团长对他说道。

多洛霍夫环顾了四周，没有说什么，也没有改变他那露出嘲笑的嘴角的表情。

“嗯，这就好了，”团长继续说道。“我邀请各位痛饮一杯，”他补充一句，让士兵们都能听见他说的话，“我感谢大家！谢天谢地！”他于是赶到这个连队的前面，并向另一个连队疾驰而去。

“没啥可说的，他确实是个好人，蛮可以和他一道干工作。”季莫欣对在身旁步行的连级军官说道。

“一言以蔽之，他是个红桃！……（团长的绰号叫做‘红桃K'）”那个连级军官一面发笑，一面说道。

长官们在举行阅兵式后的喜悦心情也感染了士兵们。这一连人心情愉快地步行。四面八方都传来士兵谈话的声音。

“有人把库图佐夫叫什么来着，他是个独眼人，只有一只眼睛？”

“可不是么！百分之百的独眼人。”

“不……老弟，他比你更眼尖哩。皮靴和包脚布，什么都看得清清楚楚……”

“我的老弟，他望了望我这双脚……嘿！我以为……”

“还有那个和他同路来的奥国人，好像他全身刷了一层白灰似的，简直白得像面粉！想必有人像擦驮具那样把他擦得干干净净！”

“费杰绍，怎么样！……他不是说过什么时候开始打仗吗？你不是呆在更近的地方？人家老是说，波拿巴本人就驻扎在布鲁诺沃①。”

①布鲁诺沃即是布劳瑙。


“波拿巴会驻扎在这里！瞧，他真是瞎说，笨蛋！他知道什么呀！目前普鲁士人在叛变。这也就是说，奥国人正在戡乱，一旦普鲁士人给镇压下去，就向要波拿巴宣战了。可是他硬说波拿巴驻扎在布鲁诺沃啊！由此可见，他是个笨蛋。你多听一点消息吧。”

“你瞧，设营员这些鬼家伙！瞧，第五连官兵已经拐弯，进村了，他们就要煮稀饭了，可我们还没有到达目的地。”

“鬼东西，给我一点面包干。”

“昨天你给了我一点烟叶，是吗？老弟，怪不得。喂，你拿去吧，上帝保佑你。”

“让我们停下来休息休息也好，要不然，我们还要空着肚子走五俄里左右的路。”

“若是德国人给我们几辆四轮马车，那就妙极了。坐上去满不在乎，真威风！”

“老弟，这里的民众狂暴得很。那里好像都是俄国王权之下的波兰人；老弟，如今这里是清一色的德国人。”

“歌手都到前面来！”可以听见上尉的喊声。

约莫二十人从各个队列中跑到连队的前面。一名领唱的鼓手向歌手们转过脸来，他挥一挥手，唱起悠扬婉转的士兵之歌，歌曲的头一句的字样是：“朝霞升，太阳红……”收尾一句的字样是：“弟兄们，光荣归于卡缅斯基爷爷和我们……”这首歌曲编写于土耳其，现时在奥国流行，只是歌词中有所改动，其中的“卡缅斯基爷爷”已被改成“库图佐夫爷爷”。

鼓手这个消瘦、眉清目秀、约莫四十岁的士兵，依照士兵的惯例突然停止，不喝完最后一句，把两手一挥，好像把一件什么东西扔到地上似的，他向士兵歌手们严肃地瞥了一眼，眯缝起眼睛。之后，当他深信人人的目光都集中在他身上的时候，他好像把一件看不见的贵重物品举在头顶上，呆了片刻后突然使劲地把它扔掉：

哎呀，我的门斗呀，我的门斗！

“我的新门斗……”二十个人接着唱下去，乐匙手尽管担负着沉重的驮具，但却急忙地向前跑去，面向连队后退着行走，微微地抖动肩膀，威吓某人似地击打着乐匙。士兵们合着歌曲的拍节，挥动着手臂，迈开大步，不知不觉地走齐了脚步。连队后面可以听见车轮的辘辘声，弹簧垫的轧轧声和马蹄的得得声。库图佐夫偕同侍从回到城里去。总司令做了个手势，要士兵们继续便步行进，一听见歌声，一望见跳舞的士兵和快活地、脚步敏捷地行进的全连的士兵，总司令及其侍从们的脸上就流露出喜悦的表情。马车从连队右边一跃而过，连队右翼的第二排中，有个蓝眼睛的士兵无意中引人注目，此人就是多洛霍夫，他雄赳赳地、步态优美地合着歌曲的拍节行走着，一面望着从他身旁走过的人们的面孔，那神情就像他很怜悯此时没有跟随连队行进的人。库图佐夫的侍从中的一名骠骑兵少尉曾经模仿团长的姿态，引起一场哄笑，这时候，他落在马车后面，向多洛霍夫跟前奔驰而去。

骠骑兵少尉热尔科夫在彼得堡曾一度属于多洛霍夫把持的暴徒团伙。热尔科夫在国外遇见一个当兵的多洛霍夫，认为没有必要和他结识。如今，当库图佐夫和这个受降级处分的军官谈话之后，他怀着老友会面的喜悦心情向他倾吐所怀。

“知心的挚友，你怎么样了？”他在听见歌声时说道，一面使他的坐骑和连队的步调一致。

“我怎么样？”多洛霍夫冷漠地答道，“正像你望见的这个样子。”

节拍轻快的歌声，使热尔科夫说话时那种无拘无束的愉快的语调和多洛霍夫回答时故意装出的冷漠的神态，赋有一种特殊意义。

“喂，你是怎样和首长搞好关系的？”热尔科夫问道。

“没有什么，都是一些好人。你是怎样混进司令部的？”

“暂时调来的，由我值班嘛。”

他们沉默了片刻。

“她从右手袖筒中放出一只雄鹰，”歌词中写道，歌词无意中引起一种朝气蓬勃的愉快的感觉。假若他们不是在听见歌声时交谈，他们的话题也许就不同了。

“打垮了奥国人，是真的么？”多洛霍夫问道。

“大家这样说，鬼才知道啊。”

“我很高兴。”正像歌词所要求的那样，多洛霍夫简而明地答道。

“好吧，随便哪天晚上请到我们那里来打法拉昂纸牌吧。”

热尔科夫说道。

“也许是你们捞到许多钱了？”

“你来吧。”

“不行，我已经发誓了。在没有晋升以前，我不喝酒，不赌钱。”

“也罢，在打仗以前……”

“到时候就见分晓。”

他们又沉吟起来。

“你需要什么就来吧，司令部里大家都会帮忙的……”热尔科夫说道。

多洛霍夫冷冷一笑。

“你还是放心好了。我需要什么不会去索求，我自己准能办到。”

“也罢，我只是这样说……”

“我也只是这样说。”

“再见。”

“祝你健康……”

……眺望故土，

关山远阻……

热尔科夫用马刺刺马，马暴躁起来，发了烈性，用蹄子约莫跺了三下，不知道先要伸出哪条腿，定神之后，疾驰起来，也同样合着歌曲的节拍赶到连队前面去追赶四轮轿式马车。

CHAPTER III

Chinese


ON RETURNING from the review, Kutuzov, accompanied by the Austrian general, went to his private room, and calling his adjutant, told him to give him certain papers, relating to the condition of the newly arrived troops, and letters, received from Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of the army at the front. Prince Andrey Bolkonsky came into the commander-in-chief's room with the papers he had asked for. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrath were sitting over a plan that lay unfolded on the table.

“Ah!” … said Kutuzov, looking round at Bolkonsky; and inviting his adjutant, as it were, by his word to wait, he went on in French with the conversation.

“I have only one thing to say, general,” said Kutuzov, with an agreeable elegance of expression and intonation, that forced one to listen for each deliberately uttered word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened to his voice with pleasure. “I can only say one thing, that if the matter depended on my personal wishes, the desire of his majesty, the Emperor Francis, should long ago have been accomplished; I should long ago have joined the archduke. And, upon my honour, believe me that for me personally to hand over the chief command of the army to more experienced and skilful generals—such as Austria is so rich in—and to throw off all this weighty responsibility, for me personally would be a relief. But circumstances are too strong for us, general.” And Kutuzov smiled with an expression that seemed to say: “You are perfectly at liberty not to believe me, and indeed it's a matter of perfect indifference to me whether you believe me or not, but you have no grounds for saying so. And that's the whole point.” The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but he had no choice but to answer Kutuzov in the same tone.

“On the contrary,” he said in a querulous and irritated voice, that contrasted with the flattering intention of the words he uttered; “On the contrary, the participation of your most high excellency in common action is highly appreciated by his majesty. But we imagine that the present delay robs the gallant Russian troops and their commander-in-chief of the laurels they are accustomed to winning in action,” he concluded a phrase he had evidently prepared beforehand.

Kutuzov bowed, still with the same smile.

“But I am convinced of this, and relying on the last letter with which his Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honoured me, I imagine that the Austrian troops under the command of so talented a leader as General Mack, have by now gained a decisive victory and have no longer need of our aid,” said Kutuzov.

The general frowned. Though there was no positive news of the defeat of the Austrians, there were too many circumstances in confirmation of the unfavourable reports; and so Kutuzov's supposition in regard to an Austrian victory sounded very much like a sneer. But Kutuzov smiled blandly, still with the same expression, which seemed to say that he had a right to suppose so. And in fact the last letter he had received from the army of General Mack had given him news of victory, and of the most favourable strategical position of the army.

“Give me that letter,” said Kutuzov, addressing Prince Andrey. “Here, if you will kindly look”—and Kutuzov, with an ironical smile about the corners of his mouth, read in German the following passage from the letter of the Archduke Ferdinand:

“We have a force, perfectly kept together, of nearly 70,000 men, in order to attack and defeat the enemy if they should pass the Lech. As we are masters of Ulm, we cannot lose the advantage of remaining masters also of both sides of the Danube; and moreover able, should the enemy not cross the Lech, to pass over the Danube at any moment, throw ourselves upon their line of communications, recross the Danube lower down, and entirely resist the enemy's aim if they should attempt to turn their whole force upon our faithful ally. In this way we shall await courageously the moment when the Imperial Russian is ready, and shall then, in conjunction, easily find a possibility of preparing for the foe that fate which he so richly deserves.”

Kutuzov concluded this period with a heavy sigh and looked intently and genially at the member of the Hofkriegsrath.

“But you know, your excellency, the sage precept to prepare for the worst,” said the Austrian general, obviously wishing to have done with jests and to come to business. He could not help glancing round at the adjutant.

“Excuse me, general,” Kutuzov interrupted him, and he, too, turned to Prince Andrey. “Here, my dear boy, get all the reports from our scouts from Kozlovsky. Here are two letters from Count Nostits, here is a letter from his Highness the Archduke Ferdinand, here is another,” he said, giving him several papers. “And of all this make out clearly in French a memorandum showing all the information we have had of the movements of the Austrian Army. Well, do so, and then show it to his excellency.”

Prince Andrey bowed in token of understanding from the first word not merely what had been said, but also what Kutuzov would have liked to have said to him. He gathered up the papers, and making a comprehensive bow, stepped softly over the carpet and went out into the reception-room.

Although so short a time had passed since Prince Andrey had left Russia, he had changed greatly during that time. In the expression of his face, in his gestures, in his gait, there was scarcely a trace to be seen now of his former affectation, ennui, and indolence. He had the air of a man who has not time to think of the impression he is making on others, and is absorbed in work, both agreeable and interesting. His face showed more satisfaction with himself and those around him. His smile and his glance were more light-hearted and attractive.

Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very cordially, had promised not to forget him, had marked him out among the other adjutants, had taken him with him to Vienna and given him the more serious commissions. From Vienna, Kutuzov had written to his old comrade, Prince Andrey's father.

“Your son,” he wrote, “gives promise of becoming an officer, who will make his name by his industry, firmness, and conscientiousness. I consider myself lucky to have such an assistant at hand.”

On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow-officers, and in the army generally, Prince Andrey had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite opposite reputations. Some, the minority, regarded Prince Andrey as a being different from themselves and from all other men, expected great things of him, listened to him, were enthusiastic in his praise, and imitated him, and with such people Prince Andrey was frank and agreeable. Others, the majority, did not like Prince Andrey, and regarded him as a sulky, cold, and disagreeable person. But with the latter class, too, Prince Andrey knew how to behave so that he was respected and even feared by them.

Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the reception-room, Prince Andrey went in with his papers to his comrade, the adjutant on duty, Kozlovsky, who was sitting in the window with a book.

“What is it, prince?” queried Kozlovsky.

“I am told to make a note of the reason why we are not moving forward.”

“And why aren't we?”

Prince Andrey shrugged his shoulders

“No news from Mack?” asked Kozlovsky.

“No.”

“If it were true that he had been beaten, news would have come.”

“Most likely,” said Prince Andrey, and he moved towards the door to go out. But he was met on the way by a tall man who at that instant walked into the reception-room, slamming the door. The stranger, who had obviously just arrived, was an Austrian general in a long coat, with a black kerchief tied round his head, and the order of Maria Theresa on his neck. Prince Andrey stopped short.

“Commander-in-chief Kutuzov?” the general asked quickly, speaking with a harsh German accent. He looked about him on both sides, and without a pause walked to the door of the private room.

“The commander-in-chief is engaged,” said Kozlovsky, hurriedly going up to the unknown general and barring his way to the door. “Whom am I to announce?”

The unknown general looked disdainfully down at the short figure of Kozlovsky, as though surprised that they could be ignorant of his identity.

“The commander-in-chief is engaged,” Kozlovsky repeated tranquilly.

The general's face contracted, his lips twitched and quivered. He took out a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out the leaf, handed it to Kozlovsky, and with rapid steps walked to the window, dropped on to a chair and looked round at the persons in the room, as though asking what they were looking at him for. Then the general lifted his head, craned his neck forward as though intending to say something, but immediately, as though carelessly beginning to hum to himself, uttered a strange sound which broke off at once. The door of the private room opened, and Kutuzov appeared in the doorway.

The general with the bandaged head, bent forward as though fleeing from danger, strode towards Kutuzov, his thin legs moving swiftly.

“You see the unfortunate Mack,” he articulated in French in a breaking voice.

The face of Kutuzov, as he stood in the doorway, remained for several instants perfectly unmoved. Then a frown seemed to run over his face, like a wave, leaving his forehead smooth again; he bowed his head respectfully, closed his eyes, ushered Mack in before him without a word, and closed the door behind him.

The report, which had been in circulation before this, of the defeat of the Austrians and the surrender of the whole army at Ulm, turned out to be the truth. Within half an hour adjutants had been despatched in various directions with orders. It was evident that the Russian troops which had hitherto been inactive, were destined soon to meet the enemy.

Prince Andrey was one of those rare staff-officers whose interests were concentrated on the general progress of the war. On seeing Mack and learning the details of his overthrow, he grasped the fact that half the campaign was lost; he perceived all the difficulty of t