[[英语园地]] 继续上《战争与和平》双语版

第九章

英文 


库图佐夫统率的三万五千官兵的俄国军队，在波拿巴指挥的十万法国军队追击时受到怀有敌意的居民的冷遇，深感军队粮饷的不足，已不再信任盟国，俄军不顾预见到的战争环境，被迫采取军事行动，遂经由多瑙河下游仓惶退却，而在敌军追赶的地区却停止前进，仅为配合撤退，不损失重型装备才开展后卫战斗。在兰巴赫、阿姆施特滕、梅尔克附近双方曾经作战，俄军与敌军交锋时英勇刚毅，已为敌军所公认；虽然如此，但是这几次战役均以俄军迅速撤退而告终。奥国军队在乌尔姆附近虽幸免被俘，并与库图佐夫在布劳瑙会师，而现今竟与俄国军队分立。库图佐夫兵力不足，装备很差，疲惫不堪，只得听之任之了。保卫维也纳的事已无可考虑。库图佐夫在维也纳期间，奥国军事参议院曾经送交他一份依据新科学规律酌情拟定的进攻性战略方案，但是目前库图佐夫部下向他提出的一项近乎难以达到的目标却已摒除以上的战略，其旨意在于联合来自俄国的军队，不重蹈马克在乌尔姆近郊损兵折将、全军被歼的覆辙。

十月二十八日，库图佐夫带领军队横渡多瑙河抵达左岸，头一次驻扎下来，与法国人的主力分据于多瑙河两岸。三十日，库图佐夫攻打驻守在多瑙河左岸的莫蒂埃师团，把它击溃了。在这次战役中，头一回赢得了战利品：军旗、大炮和两名敌军将领。在两个星期的撤退之后，俄国军队头一次留驻下来，在一场争斗以后，不仅守住了战地，而且驱逐了法国人。虽然这些军队缺少衣服，疲惫不堪，掉队、伤亡和患病的人员占三分之一，削弱了兵力；虽然一些伤病员持有库图佐夫的手谕留在多瑙河对岸（手谕中暗示：听任敌人赐予他们仁慈的照拂）；虽然克雷姆斯的大病院和住房都已变成军医院，但是仍然容纳不了全部伤病员，尽管如此，在克雷姆斯驻留和对莫蒂埃的胜利在颇大程度上提高了部队的士气。在全军之中和在大本营中都散布着令人喜悦、虽然并非真实的传闻，说什么俄国纵队即将来临、奥国人赢得大捷，吓破胆的波拿巴撤退了。

作战期间，安德烈公爵曾在这次战役中捐躯的奥地利将军施米特身边服役。他骑的马负了伤，他本人也被子弹擦伤一只手，伤势轻微。多亏总司令给予特殊照顾，他携带大捷的消息被派至奥国宫廷；法国军队的威胁引起宫廷恐惧，奥国宫廷已经不在维也纳，而在布吕恩。作战的深夜，安德烈公爵激动不安，并不感到困倦，虽然看起来他的身体虚弱，但是他比那些最强壮的人更能经受住劳累，他骑上马，随身带着多赫图罗夫的情报前往克雷姆斯晋谒库图佐夫。当天夜晚安德烈公爵充当信使被派往布吕恩。执行信使这一职务，除获得奖励而外，还意味他向升迁的路上迈出一大步。

黑夜里星光点点，白皑皑的积雪中的道路显得更黑了，前一天，即是作战的那天下了一场雪。安德烈公爵时而逐一回溯刚刚结束的战斗留下的印象，时而快活地想象他要传达的胜利消息必将造成的印象，一边回味总司令和战友们饯行的情景，安德烈公爵坐在邮车里飞速地行驶，他心中怀有那种感情，就像某人长久地等待、终于开始获得朝思暮想的幸福。他只要闭上眼睛，耳鼓中就会响起枪声和炮声，这声音正和车轮的响声以及大捷的印象融汇在一起了。他时而仿佛觉得，俄国人正在奔跑，而他自己战死了；但是他很快觉醒过来怀着幸福的心情，仿佛又悟到没有发生什么事，又仿佛觉得法国官兵反而逃跑了。他又回想起大捷的详情细节和他在作战时的镇静和英勇精神，于是他心安理得，打起盹来……在昏暗的星夜之后阳光灿烂的欢乐的早晨来到了。积雪在阳光下融化，马儿飞速奔驰着，道路的左右两侧，闪过了不熟悉的五颜六色的森林、田野和村庄。

他在一个车站上赶过了装运俄国伤员的车队。一名押运的俄国军官把手脚伸开懒洋洋地躺在前面的大车上，一面叫喊着什么，一面说着士兵的粗话骂人。几辆德国制造的长车身马车，沿着石板马路颠簸着，每辆都载有六名以上的脸色苍白、缠上绷带、形容污秽的伤员。其中一些人正在谈话（他听见俄国口音），另外一些人在吃面包，伤势至为严重的都默不作声，都带着温顺、痛苦而幼稚的心情望着从他们身旁疾驰而去的信使。

安德烈公爵吩咐手下人停步，向一名士兵询问，他们是在什么战役中负伤的。

“前天在多瑙河上负伤的。”士兵回答。安德烈公爵掏出钱包把三枚金币交给士兵。

“是给你们大家的，”他向那个朝他跟前走来的军官补充说。“伙伴们，养好伤吧，”他把脸转向士兵们说道，“还有许多仗要打啊。”

“副官先生，怎么样？有什么消息？”军官问道，看起来，他想畅谈一番。

“有好消息啊！前进。”他向驿站马车夫喊了一声，便乘车往前奔驰而去。

当安德烈公爵乘车驶入布吕恩的时候，天色已经黑了，他看见周围有一栋栋高大的楼房，商店和住宅的窗户里灯火通明，一排排路灯闪烁着耀眼的光辉，豪华的马车沿着石板马路驶行，发出辚辚的响声，这正是热热闹闹的大城市的气氛，对那个度过一段兵营生涯的军人来说，这种气氛真是十分诱人的。虽然安德烈公爵快马加鞭，彻夜不眠，但是在他驶近皇宫时，他觉得自己比前夜精神更加抖擞。只是他那对眼睛闪烁着狂热之光。他的心绪万千，接踵而至，思路极其敏捷而且清晰。他的思想上又很生动地浮现出作战的详细情节，这种想象已经不是模糊的，而是合乎逻辑的。他想简单而扼要地向弗朗茨皇帝禀告实情。他的思想上很生动地浮现出一些偶然提出的问题以及他对这些问题作出的回答。他原以为马上有人带他去觐见皇帝。但在皇宫正门前，有一名官员向他跑来，一眼认出他是信差，就把他领到另一道门前。

“EuerHochgeboren①，沿着走廊向右转，您可以找到值班的侍从武官，”这名官员对他说，“他会带您去见军政大臣。”

①德语：大人。


值班的侍从武官接待了安德烈公爵，请他等候片刻，这名侍从武官便到军政大臣那儿去了。过了五分钟，侍从武官走回来，他特别恭敬地弯腰鞠躬，让安德烈公爵在前面走，带领他穿过走廊进入军务倥偬的军政大臣的办公室。侍从武官文质彬彬，非常谦虚，仿佛要俄国副官不必对他太客气似的。当他走到军政大臣办公室门前的时候，他那愉快的感觉大大地冲淡了。他觉得自己遭受到侮辱，而这种受辱的感觉就在他不知不觉的一瞬间变成了毫无道理的蔑视感。就在这一瞬间，随机应变的头脑向他暗示一个有权蔑视副官和军政大臣的理由。“他们大概以为不闻火药味也可以不费吹灰之力地赢得胜利啊！”他想了想。他那双眼睛轻蔑地眯缝起来。他特别缓慢地走进了军政大臣的办公室。当他看见军政大臣坐在一张宽大的办公桌前、头两分钟不理睬走进来的人时，他这种感觉就变得愈益强烈了。这个军政大臣把他那夹在两支蜡烛中间、两鬓斑白的秃头低垂下来，一面阅读文件，一面用铅笔做记号。当房门敞开、听见步履声时，他连头也不抬，继续把文件看完。

“您拿着文件，把它转送出去吧。”军政大臣对他的副官说话，并把文件递给他时，还没有理睬这个信使。

安德烈公爵已经感觉到，或者在军政大臣所操心的事务中，他对库图佐夫采取的行动丝毫不感兴趣，或者有必要让俄国信差意识到这么一点。“不过我觉得，这横竖一样。”他想了想。军政大臣把其余的文件推到一边，摆得整整齐齐，随后才抬起头来。他那脑袋瓜子挺聪明，个性很倔强。可是在他把脸转向安德烈公爵的这一瞬间，军政大臣脸上流露的聪明而坚定的表情似乎习惯地有意识地突然改变了。地脸上现出愚笨、虚伪、并不掩饰虚伪的微笑，就像某人接见一大批一大批请愿者时面露微笑似的。

“您是从库图佐夫元帅那里来的？”他问道，“我希望您带来好消息，是吗？和莫蒂埃发生过军事冲突么？打赢了？正是时候啊！”

他拿起一份署有他的名字的急电，带着忧悒的表情开始念电文。

“哎！我的天！我的天！施米特呀！”他用德国话说道，“多么不幸啊！多么不幸啊！”

他走马观花地看了一下电文，把它放在桌上，望了望安德烈公爵，看来他在考虑什么事情。

“哎，多么不幸啊！您说，这是一场决定性的战役吗？但是莫蒂埃还没有被抓起来（他想了想。）。虽然施米特阵亡是为赢得胜利而付出的高昂代价，但是我非常高兴，您带来了好消息。陛下也许很想和您见面，但是并不是今天。我感谢您，去休息休息。明天阅兵后您来朝拜吧。最好还是我来通知您。”

谈话时已经消失的愚蠢的微笑又在军政大臣脸上流露出来。

“再见，我很感谢您。国王也许很想和您见面。”他重说一遍，低下头去。

当安德烈公爵从皇宫里走出来的时候，他觉得，胜利给他带来的一切利益和幸福现今已被他抛弃，并且交给军政大臣和谦恭的副官的冷冰冰的手中了。他的全部思想转瞬之间改变了。他仿佛觉得这场战斗已是久远的往事的回忆。

CHAPTER X

Chinese


PRINCE ANDREY stayed at Bränn with a Russian of his acquaintance in the diplomatic service, Bilibin.

“Ah, my dear prince, there's no one I could have been more pleased to see,” said Bilibin, coming to meet Prince Andrey. “Franz, take the prince's things to my bedroom,” he said to the servant, who was ushering Bolkonsky in. “What, a messenger of victory? That's capital. I'm kept indoors ill, as you see.”

After washing and dressing, Prince Andrey came into the diplomat's luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin was sitting quietly at the fireplace.

Not his journey only, but all the time he had spent with the army on the march, deprived of all the conveniences of cleanliness and the elegancies of life, made Prince Andrey feel now an agreeable sense of repose among the luxurious surroundings to which he had been accustomed from childhood. Moreover, after his Austrian reception, he was glad to speak—if not in Russian, for they talked French—at least to a Russian, who would, he imagined, share the general Russian dislike (which he felt particularly keenly just then) for the Austrians.

Bilibin was a man of five-and-thirty, a bachelor, of the same circle as Prince Andrey. They had been acquainted in Petersburg, but had become more intimate during Prince Andrey's last stay at Vienna with Kutuzov. Just as Prince Andrey was a young man, who promised to rise high in a military career, Bilibin promised to do even better in diplomacy. He was still a young man, but not a young diplomat, as he had been in the service since he was sixteen. He had been in Paris and in Copenhagen; and now in Vienna he filled a post of considerable importance. Both the foreign minister and our ambassador at Vienna knew him and valued him. He was not one of that great multitude of diplomats whose qualification is limited to the possession of negative qualities, who need simply avoid doing certain things and speak French in order to be very good diplomats. He was one of those diplomats who like work and understand it, and in spite of his natural indolence, he often spent nights at his writing-table. He worked equally well whatever the object of his work might be. He was interested not in the question “Why?” but in the question “How?” What constituted his diplomatic work, he did not mind, but to draw up a circular, a memorandum, or a report subtly, pointedly, and elegantly, was a task which gave him great pleasure. Apart from such labours, Bilibin's merits were esteemed the more from his ease in moving and talking in the higher spheres.

Bilibin enjoyed conversation just as he enjoyed work, only when the conversation could be elegantly witty. In society he was continually watching for an opportunity of saying something striking, and did not enter into conversation except under such circumstances. Bilibin's conversation was continually sprinkled with original, epigrammatic, polished phrases of general interest. These phrases were fashioned in the inner laboratory of Bilibin's mind, as though intentionally, of portable form, so that insignificant persons could easily remember them and carry them from drawing-room to drawing-room. And Bilibin's good things were hawked about in Viennese drawing-rooms and afterwards had an influence on so-called great events.

His thin, lean, yellow face was all covered with deep creases, which always looked as clean and carefully washed as the tips of one's fingers after a bath. The movement of these wrinkles made up the chief play of expression of his countenance. At one moment his forehead wrinkled up in broad furrows, and his eyebrows were lifted, at another moment his eyebrows drooped again and deep lines creased his cheeks. His deep-set, small eyes looked out frankly and good-humouredly.

“Come, now, tell us about your victories,” he said. Bolkonsky in the most modest fashion, without once mentioning himself in connection with it, described the engagement, and afterwards his reception by the war minister.

“They received me and my news like a dog in a game of skittles,” he concluded.

Bilibin grinned, and the creases in his face disappeared.

“All the same, my dear fellow,” he said, gazing from a distance at his finger-nails, and wrinkling up the skin over his left eye, “notwithstanding my high esteem for the holy Russian armament, I own that your victory is not so remarkably victorious.”

He went on talking in French, only uttering in Russian those words to which he wished to give a contemptuous intonation.

“Why? with the whole mass of your army you fell upon the unlucky Mortier with one division, and Mortier slipped through your fingers? Where's the victory?”

“Seriously speaking, though,” answered Prince Andrey, “we can at least say without boasting that it's rather better than Ulm…”

“Why didn't you capture us one, at least, one marshal?”

“Because everything isn't done as one expects it will be, and things are not as regular as on parade. We had expected, as I told you, to attack the enemy in the rear at seven o'clock in the morning, but we did not arrive at it until five o'clock in the evening.”

“But why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have done it at seven in the morning,” said Bilibin, smiling; “you ought to have done it at seven in the morning.”

“Why didn't you succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?” said Prince Andrey in the same tone.

“I know,” broke in Bilibin, “you are thinking that it's very easy to capture marshals, sitting on the sofa by one's fireside. That's true, but still why didn't you capture him? And you needn't feel surprised if the most august Emperor and King Francis, like the war minister, is not very jubilant over your victory. Why, even I, a poor secretary of the Russian Embassy, feel no necessity to testify my rejoicing by giving my Franz a thaler and sending him out for a holiday to disport himself with his Liebchen on the Prater…though it's true there is no Prater here…” He looked straight at Prince Andrey and suddenly let the creases drop out of his puckered forehead.

“Now it's my turn to ask you ‘why,' my dear boy,” said Bolkonsky. “I must own that I don't understand it; perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties in it that are beyond my feeble intellect; but I can't make it out. Mack loses a whole army, Archduke Ferdinand and Archduke Karl give no sign of life and make one blunder after another; Kutuzov alone gains at last a decisive victory, breaks the prestige of invincibility of the French, and the minister of war does not even care to learn the details!”

“For that very reason, my dear boy, don't you see! Hurrah for the Tsar, for Russia, for the faith! That's all very nice; but what have we, I mean the Austrian court, to do with your victories? You bring us good news of a victory of Archduke Karl or Ferdinand—one archduke's as good as the other, as you know—if it's only a victory over a fire brigade of Bonaparte, and it will be another matter, it will set the cannons booming. But this can only tantalise us, as if it were done on purpose. Archduke Karl does nothing, Archduke Ferdinand covers himself with disgrace, you abandon Vienna, give up its defence, as though you would say to us, God is with us, and the devil take you and your capital. One general, whom we all loved, Schmidt, you put in the way of a bullet, and then congratulate us on your victory!…You must admit that anything more exasperating than the news you have brought could not be conceived. It's as though it were done on purpose, done on purpose. But apart from that, if you were to gain a really brilliant victory, if Archduke Karl even were to win a victory, what effect could it have on the general course of events? It's too late now, when Vienna is occupied by the French forces.”

“Occupied? Vienna occupied?”

“Not only is Vienna occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schönbrunn, and the count—our dear Count Urbna—is setting off to receive his orders.”

After the fatigues and impressions of his journey and his reception, and even more after the dinner he had just eaten, Bolkonsky felt that he could not take in all the significance of the words he had just heard.

“Count Lichtenfels was here this morning,” pursued Bilibin, “and he showed me a letter containing a full description of the parade of the French at Vienna. Prince Murat and all the rest of it … You see that your victory is not a great matter for rejoicing, and that you can't be received as our deliverer…”

“Really, I don't care about that, I don't care in the slightest!” said Prince Andrey, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems was really of little importance in view of such an event as the taking of the capital of Austria. “How was Vienna taken? And its bridge and its famous fortifications, and Prince Auersperg? We heard rumours that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna,” said he.

“Prince Auersperg is stationed on this side—our side—and is defending us; defending us very ineffectually, I imagine, but any way he is defending us. But Vienna's on the other side of the river. No, the bridge has not been taken, and I hope it won't be taken, because it is mined and orders have been given to blow it up. If it were not so, we should have long ago been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires.”

“But still that doesn't mean that the campaign is over,” said Prince Andrey.

“But I believe that it is over. And so do all the big-wigs here, though they don't dare to say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, that the matter will not be settled by your firing before Därenstein, not by gunpowder, but by those who invented it,” said Bilibin, repeating one of his mots, letting the creases run out of his forehead and pausing. “The only question is what the meeting of the Emperor Alexander and the Prussian king may bring forth. If Prussia enters the alliance, they will force Austria's hand and there will be war. If not, the only point will be to arrange where to draw up the articles of the new Campo Formio.”

“But what an extraordinary genius!” cried Prince Andrey suddenly, clenching his small hand and bringing it down on the table. “And what luck the man has!”

“Buonaparte?” said Bilibin interrogatively, puckering up his forehead and so intimating that a mot was coming. “Buonaparte?” he said, with special stress on the u. “I think, though, that now when he is dictating laws to Austria from Schönbrunn, we must let him off the u. I shall certainly adopt the innovation, and call him simply Bonaparte.”

“No, joking apart,” said Prince Andrey, “do you really believe the campaign is over?”

“I'll tell you what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is not used to that. And she'll avenge it. And she has been made a fool of because in the first place her provinces have been pillaged (they say the Holy Russian armament is plundering them cruelly), her army has been destroyed, her capital has been taken, and all this for the sweet sake of his Sardinian Majesty. And so between ourselves, my dear boy, my instinct tells me we are being deceived; my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and projects of peace, a secret peace, concluded separately.”

“Impossible!” said Prince Andrey. “That would be too base.”

“Time will show,” said Bilibin, letting the creases run off his forehead again in token of being done with the subject.

When Prince Andrey went to the room that had been prepared for him, and lay down in the clean linen on the feather-bed and warmed and fragrant pillows, he felt as though the battle of which he brought tidings was far, far away from him. The Prussian alliance, the treachery of Austria, the new triumph of Bonaparte, the levée and parade and the audience of Emperor Francis next day, engrossed his attention. He closed his eyes and instantly his ears were ringing with the cannonade, the firing of muskets, and the creaking of wheels, and again he saw the long line of musketeers running down-hill and the French firing, and he felt his heart beating and saw himself galloping in front of the lines with Schmidt, and, the bullets whizzing merrily around him; and he knew that sense of intensified joy in living that he had not experienced since childhood. He waked up.

“Yes, that all happened!”…he said, with a happy, childlike smile to himself. And he fell into the deep sleep of youth.

第十章

英文 


安德烈公爵在布吕恩的一个相识——俄国外交官比利宾那里住下来。

“啊，亲爱的公爵，没有比看见您这位客人更令人高兴的事，”比利宾出去迎接安德烈公爵时说道。“弗朗茨，把公爵的东西送到我的卧室中去！”他把脸转向伴随博尔孔斯基的仆人说，“怎么，是报送胜利消息的人吗？好极了。您看，我正害病哩。”

安德烈公爵盥洗、穿衣之后，便走进外交官的豪华的书斋，坐下来，他面前摆着做好的午餐。比利宾安闲地坐在壁炉旁。

安德烈公爵不仅在旅行之后，而且在他丧失一切舒适、洁净和优越的生活条件的行军之后，他体会到自从童年时代以来他就在这个已经习惯的奢侈生活环境中休息时所体会的那种心旷神怡的感觉。除此而外，他在受到奥国人的接待后，能够和一个俄国人谈话，即使不说俄国话（他们用法国话交谈），也感到愉快；因为他认为这个交谈者也怀有俄国人对奥国人的共同的厌恶之感（现在特别强烈地被他体会到的厌恶之感）。

比利宾三十五岁左右，未娶妻，他和安德烈公爵属于同一个上流社会。他们早在彼得堡就已相识，但在安德烈公爵随同库图佐夫抵达维也纳时，他们的交往就更密切了。如果说，安德烈公爵年轻，并且在军事舞台会有远大前途，那末比利宾在外交舞台的前途就更远大了。他还年轻，而他已经不是年轻的外交官了，因为他从十六岁那年起就开始任职，曾经留驻巴黎、哥本哈根。目下在维也纳担任相当重要的职务。首相和我国驻维也纳大使都认识他，而且重视他。他独树一帜，不属于多数外交家之列，他们为了要成为至为优秀的外交官员，就需具备一些消极的优点，不做某些不该做的事情，而要会说一口法语。虽然有一些外交官秉性懒惰，但是他们热爱工作，而且善于工作，他们有时候坐在办公桌旁一连熬上几个通宵，比利宾属于这些外交官之列。无论工作的实质何在，他都干得很出色。他所关注的不是“为什么要干”的问题，而是“怎样干”的问题。外交上的事务是什么，他满不在乎。他认为，熟练地雅致而妥当地草拟通令、备忘录或报告才是他的莫大的乐趣。比利宾的功绩受到珍视，除了笔头工作而外，他还擅长在上层社会致词和交际。

只是在交谈的人说说文雅的俏皮话的时候，比利宾才像喜爱工作那样喜爱谈话。在上流社会，他经常等候机会去说句什么动听的话，而且只是在这种环境中他才与人攀谈。比利宾谈起话来，经常在话中夹杂许多奇特古怪的俏皮话，而在结束时总要加上几句大家都感兴趣的漂亮话。这些漂亮话仿佛是在比利宾的内在的创作活动中故意编造出来的，具有独特的性质，而其目的在于便于卑微庸俗的上流社会人士记忆并在客厅中广泛流行。真的，lesmotsdeBilibinesecolporBtaientdanslessalonsdeVienne①，据说，常对所谓的重大国事产生影响。

①法语：比利宾的评论在维也纳的客厅中广为流传。


他那消瘦的、略带黄色的脸上布满了宽宽的皱纹，这些皱纹和洗完澡之后的指头尖一般总是细心地洗得干干净净的。这些皱纹的活动构成他面部表情的主要变化。他时而竖起眉尖，额头上就露出宽宽的皱褶，时而把眉尖向下低垂，面颊上就形成宽宽的皱纹。一对深陷的小眼睛总是快活地向前直视着。

“喂，现在给我们讲讲你们的战功吧。”他说道。博尔孔斯基一次也没有提到他自己，他很谦虚地讲到前方的战况和军政大臣接待他的情形。

“Ilsm'ontrecuavecmanouvelle，commeunchiendansunjeudequilles．”①他说了一句收尾的话。

比利宾苦笑一阵，舒展开脸皮上的皱褶。

“Cependant，moncher，”他说道，一面远远地察看自己的指甲，一面皱起左眼以上的皮肤，“malgrelahauteestimequejepsofessepourle东正教的俄国战士们，j'avouequevotrevictoiren'estpasdesplusvictorieuses．”②

①法语：他们像对待跑进九柱戏场地的狗那样接待我这个报送消息的人。

②法语：我亲爱的，虽然我十分尊敬东正教的俄国战士们，但是我认为，你们的胜利不是最辉煌的。


他用法国话继续说下去，他想轻蔑地加以强调的那些词才用俄国话说出来。

“可不是？你们仗着全军人马猛烈地攻打只有一师人的很不幸的莫蒂埃，这个莫蒂埃竟从你们手中逃跑了？哪能算什么胜利呢？”

“但是，严格地说，”安德烈公爵答道，“我们还可以不吹牛地说，这总比乌尔姆战役略胜一筹……”

“你们为什么不给我们俘获一个元帅呢？即使是一个也行。”

“因为不是一切事情都能按计划办成，也不能像检阅那样定期举行。正像我对您说的，我以为早上七点以前能迂回走到敌人后方，可是在下午五点以前还没有走到。”

“你们为什么不在早上七点钟以前走到呢？你们应当在早上七点钟以前走到，”比利宾面露微笑地说道，“应当在早上七点钟走到。”

“你们为什么不用外交手腕开导波拿巴，要他最好放弃热那亚呢？”安德烈公爵用同样的语调说道。

“我知道，”比利宾打断他的话，“您坐在壁炉前的沙发上，心中在想，抓住元帅是很容易的事。这没有错，可是你们究竟为什么没有把他抓住呢？您不要诧异，不仅军政大臣，而且至圣的皇帝弗朗茨陛下对你们的胜利都不会感到非常高兴，就连我这个不幸的俄国使馆的秘书也不觉得这有什么特别高兴的……”

他双眼直勾勾地望望安德烈公爵，忽然舒展开前额上绷紧的皮肤。

“我亲爱的，现在轮到我来问问您‘为什么'？”博尔孔斯基说道，“我向您承认，我也许并不明白，这里头会有什么超出我这贫乏智慧的外交上的微妙之处，但是我也弄不明白，马克丧失了全军人马，费迪南大公和卡尔大公奄奄待毙，毫无生气，而且接一连二地做出错事，只有库图佐夫终于赢得了真正的胜利，粉碎了法国人的Chavme①，而军政大臣甚至不想知道详细的战况哩！”

“我亲爱的，正是因为这个缘故。Voyez－vous，monchesB．②乌拉！为了沙皇，为了俄国，为了信仰！Toutcaestbeletbon③，但是，我说你们的胜利对我们、对奥国朝廷有什么关系？你们替我们带来卡尔大公或者费迪南大公赢得胜利的好消息吧。正像您所知道的，unarchiduevautl'autre④，打垮波拿巴的消防队也好哩，不过那是另一码事，而我们到那时一定要鸣炮示意。其实这只像是故意招惹我们似的。卡尔大公毫无作为，费迪南大公蒙受耻辱。你们在放弃维也纳，不再去保卫它了，commesivousnousdisiez⑤，上帝保佑我们，上帝也保佑你们和你们的首都。一位我们人人热爱的施米持将军：你们竟让他死在枪弹之下，现在反而要庆贺我们的胜利啦！……您赞同我们的看法吧，再也没想出比您带来的消息更令人气愤的事了。C'estcommeunfaitexprès，commeunfaitexprès⑥．此外，嗯，即使你们赢得辉煌的胜利，就连卡尔大公也赢得胜利，这就会改变整个军事行动的进程吧？维也纳已被法国军队占领，现在为时太晚了。”

①法语：战无不胜的誓言。

②法语：您要明白。

③法语：这一切都好极了。

④法语：这个大公顶得上那个大公。

⑤法语：你们好像是对我们说的。

⑥法语：这好像有意作对似的，有意作对似的。


“怎么已被占领了？维也纳已被占领了？”

“不仅被占领，而且波拿巴正待在申布鲁恩宫。伯爵，我们可爱的伯爵弗尔布纳已动身前往波拿巴处乞求指示了。”

博尔孔斯基在旅途劳累之后，印象犹新，在领受接待之后，尤其是在午宴之后他觉得，他弄不明白他所听到的这番话的全部意义。

“今天早上利希滕费尔斯伯爵到过这里了，”比利宾继续说下去，“他把一封信拿给我看，信中详尽地描述了法国人在维也纳举行阅兵式的实况。LeprinceMuratettoutletremBblement…①您知道，你们的胜利不是令人很高兴的事，您也不会像救世主那样受到厚待……”

“说实在的，我是无所谓的，完全无所谓的啊！”安德烈公爵说道。他开始明了，因为奥国首都已被占领，所以他所获悉的克雷姆斯城郊一战的消息就缺乏重要意义了。“维也纳怎么被占领了？那座大桥、那座举世闻名的tetedepont②，还有奥尔斯珀格公爵怎么样了？我们这里谣传，奥尔斯珀格公爵正在捍卫维也纳。”他说道。

①法语：缪拉亲王及其他……

②法语：堡垒。


“奥尔斯珀格公爵驻守在我军占领的大河这边，正在保卫我们。我认为他保卫得十分差劲，但毕竟是在保卫。维也纳在大河对岸。有一座桥还未被占领。我希望桥梁不被占领，因为桥上布满了地雷，并且下达了炸桥的命令。否则，我们老早就到波希米亚山区去了，你们随同你们的军队都要遭受到两面夹攻了。”

“但是，这还不意味，战役已经宣告结束。”安德烈公爵说道。

“我想，战役已经结束了。这里的一些大笨伯都有这种想法，但是不敢说出这句话。我在战役开始时说过的话就要兑现了，对战事起决定作用的不是你们的échauffouréedeDürenstein①，而且根本不是火药，而是那些妄图发动战争的人，”比利宾说道，把他爱用的mots②重说一遍，又一面舒展额角上皱起的皮肤，停顿一会儿，“问题只在于，亚历山大皇帝和普鲁士国王在柏林会谈的内容如何。如果普鲁士加入联盟，onforceralamainàl'Autriche③，战争就会爆发起来。若非如此，那末，问题只在于，双方议定于何地拟订新的CamBpoFormio④的初步条款。

“多么非凡的天才啊！”安德烈公爵忽然喊道，握紧他那细小的拳头，捶打着桌子，“这个人多么幸运啊！”

“Buonaparte？”⑤比利宾带着疑问的语调说道，他蹙起额头，想要人家意识到，unmot⑥就要出现了，“是波拿巴吗？”他说道，特别强调“u”的重音，“不过我以为，正当他在申布鲁恩宫制定奥国法典时，ilfautluifairvegracedel'u，⑦我要坚决地规定一项新办法，索兴称他Bonapartetoutcourt。”⑧

①法语和德语：迪伦斯坦交火。

②法语：词儿。

③法语：那就对奥国采取强制手段。

④法语：坎波福朱奥和约。

⑤法语：是波拿巴吗？

⑥法语：俏皮话。

⑦法语：就应当使他避免发出“u”音。

⑧法语：索兴称他波拿巴。


“不，甭开玩笑，”安德烈公爵说道，“您难道以为战役已经结束了吗？”

“我就是这样想的。奥国打输了，可是它不会习惯于失败的局面。它要报复的。它之所以失利，首先是因为一些省份已被摧毁（ondit，leest东正教的terriblepourlepillage①，军队被粉碎，首都被占领，这一切都是pourlesbeauxyeuxdu撒丁陛下②，其二是因为——entrenous，moncherB，③——我凭嗅觉正闻到，人家在欺骗我们，我凭嗅觉还闻到，他们和法国搭上了关系，制订了和约草案——单独缔结的秘密和约草案。”

“这不可能啊！”安德烈公爵说道，“这真是可恶极了。”

“Quivivranerra．”④比利宾说，又舒展皱起的皮肤，表示谈话结束了。

①法语：据说东正教的军队抢得很厉害。

②法语：为了撒丁陛下好看的眼睛。

③法语：我亲爱的，在我们之间说说。

④法语：过些日子，就会看清楚。


当安德烈公爵走到给他布置的房间、穿着干净的睡衣躺在绒毛褥子上、垫着香喷喷的暖和的枕头的时候，他感觉到，由他报送消息的那次战斗和他相隔很远很远了。他关心的是普鲁士联盟、奥国的变节、波拿巴的又一次大捷、明天的出朝、阅兵以及弗朗茨皇帝的接见。

他闭上眼睛，就在这一瞬间他耳鼓中响起隆隆的枪炮声和辚辚的车轮声，又看见排成一条长线的火枪兵走下山来，一群法国兵开枪射击，他于是觉得，他的心在颤栗着，他和施米特并骑向前疾驶，子弹在他四周欢快地呼啸，他体会到一种从童年起未曾体会到的生存的万分喜悦的感觉。

他醒悟了……

“是啊，这一切已是明日黄花！……”他说道，他脸上自然流露着幸福的童稚的微笑，这个年轻人于是酣然入睡了。

CHAPTER XI

Chinese


NEXT DAY he waked up late. Going over the impressions of the past, what he recalled most vividly was that he was to be presented to the Emperor Francis; he remembered the minister of war, the ceremonious adjutant, Bilibin, and the conversation of the previous evening. He dressed for his attendance at court in full court-dress, which he had not worn for a long time, and fresh, eager, and handsome, he walked into Bilibin's room with his arm in a sling. Four gentlemen of the diplomatic corps were already there. With Prince Ippolit Kuragin, who was a secretary to the embassy, Bolkonsky was already acquainted; Bilibin introduced him to the others.

The gentlemen calling on Bilibin were a set of fashionable, wealthy, and lively young men, who here, as at Vienna, made up a circle apart, a circle which Bilibin, its leader, spoke of as les nôtres. This circle, consisting almost exclusively of diplomatists, evidently had its own interests—quite apart from the war and politics—interests, that revolved round the fashionable world, relations with certain women and the formal side of the service. They gave Prince Andrey an unmistakably cordial reception, as one of themselves (a distinction they allowed to few). From civility and to break the ice they asked him a few questions about the army and the battle, and the conversation slipped back again to disconnected, good-humoured jests and gossip.

“But what was so particularly nice,” said one, relating a disaster that had befallen a colleague, “was that the minister told him in so many words that his appointment to London was a promotion and that that was how he ought to regard it. Can you fancy his figure at the moment?”…

“But the worst of all is to come, gentlemen. I'm going to betray Kuragin—here is this Don Juan going to profit by his misfortune; he's a shocking fellow!”

Prince Ippolit lounged in a reclining chair, with his legs over the arm. He laughed.

“Tell me about that,” said he.

“O Don Juan! O serpent!” cried the voices.

“You're not aware, I dare say, Bolkonsky,” said Bilibin, turning to Prince Andrey, “that all the atrocities of the French army (I was almost saying of the Russian) are nothing in comparison with the exploits of this fellow among the ladies.”

“Woman…is the companion of man,” Prince Ippolit enunciated, and he stared through his eyeglass at his elevated legs.

Bilibin and les nôtres roared, looking Ippolit straight in the face. Prince Andrey saw that this Ippolit, of whom—he could not disguise it from himself—he had been almost jealous on his wife's account, was the butt of this set.

“No, I must entertain you with a specimen of Kuragin,” said Bilibin aside to Bolkonsky. “He's exquisite, when he airs his views upon politics; you must see his gravity.”

He sat down by Ippolit, and, wrinkling up his forehead, began talking to him about politics. Prince Andrey and the others stood round the two.

“The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance,” Ippolit began, looking consequentially round at all of them, “without expressing…as in its last note…you understand…you understand…and besides, if his Majesty the Emperor does not give up the principle of our alliance.”

“Wait, I have not finished,” he said to Prince Andrey, taking him by the arm. “I suppose that intervention will be stronger than non-intervention. And…” He paused. “Our dispatch of the 28th of November cannot be reckoned as an exception. That is how it will all end.” And he dropped Bolkonsky's arm as a sign that he had now quite concluded.

“Demosthenes, I recognise you by the pebble that you hide in your golden mouth,” said Bilibin, whose thick thatch of hair moved forward on his head from the puckering of his brows with delight.

Every one laughed. Ippolit laughed louder than any. He was visibly distressed; he breathed painfully, but he could not help breaking into a savage laugh, that convulsed his usually impassive face.

“Well now, gentlemen,” said Bilibin, “Bolkonsky is my guest here in Bränn and I want to show him, as far as I can, all the attractions of our life here. If we were in Vienna, it would be easy enough; but here, in this vile Moravian hole, it is more difficult, and I beg you all for assistance. We must do him the honour of Bränn. You undertake the theatre and I will undertake society; you, Ippolit, of course, the ladies.”

“We ought to let him see Amélie; she's exquisite!” said one of les nôtres. kissing his finger-tips.

“Altogether,” said Bilibin, “we must turn this bloodthirsty rnan to more humane interests.”

“I fear I can hardly take advantage of your hospitality, gentlemen; it's time I was off even now,” said Bolkonsky, glancing at his watch.

“Where to?”

“To the Emperor!”

“Oh! oh! oh!”

“Well, au revoir, Bolkonsky! Au revoir, prince! Come early to dinner,” said voices. “We reckon upon you.”

“Try to make the most of the good discipline of the troops, in the provisioning of supplies and on the lines of march, when you talk to the Emperor,” said Bilibin, accompanying Bolkonsky to the hall.

“I should like to speak well of it, but as far as my observation goes, I can't,” answered Bolkonsky, smiling.

“Well, talk as much as you can, any way. Audiences are his passion, but he doesn't like talking himself, and can't talk either, as you will see.”

第十一章

英文 


翌日，他醒来得很迟。重温着往日的印象，首先想到今日要朝拜弗朗茨皇帝，想起军政大臣、恭恭敬敬的侍从武官、比利宾和昨日夜晚的闲谈。他要去朝拜，便穿上一套许久未穿的检阅服装，精神焕发，兴致勃勃，姿态亦优美，一只手绑着绷带，走进比利宾的书斋。书斋里有四个外交使团的绅士模样的人。博尔孔斯基认识公使馆的秘书伊波利特·库拉金公爵，比利宾介绍其余三个人和他相识。

经常到比利宾这里来的绅士派头的人都是一些年轻、家境富裕、快活的上层社会人士，他们无论在维也纳，还是在此地都结成一个独立的团体，这个团体的头头比利宾把它称为自己人（lesnotres）。这个几乎主要是由外交官构成的团体，看来有自己所固有的与战争和政治毫无关系的兴趣，这个团体对上层社会、对一些女士的态度和公务很感兴趣。看起来，这些有绅士派头的人都乐意吸收安德烈公爵加入他们的团体，认为他是自己人（他们对少数几个人表示尊敬）。因为人们尊敬他，才向他提出几个有关军队和战役的问题，以此作为话题。随即又闲谈起来，话里头夹杂着许多乱七八糟的笑话，而且议论他人的长短。

“不过这是件特别好的事，”有个人讲到外交官中一个同僚的失败时，说道，“其所以是件特别好的事，是因为奥国首相坦率地告诉他：他去伦敦上任是一种晋升，要他能这样看待这件事。你们能臆想得出他这时的模样吗？……”

“诸君，不过最糟的是，我要向你们揭发库拉金；有个人处于逆境，他这个唐璜却借机滋事。这个人多么可怕啊！”

伊波利特公爵躺在一把伏尔泰椅上，一双脚跷在扶手上，大笑起来。

“Parlez—moideca，”①他说道。

①法语：喂，您讲讲吧，喂，您讲讲吧。

②法语：女人是男人的伴侣。


“啊，唐璜！啊！一条毒蛇。”听见几个人异口同声地说。

“博尔孔斯基，您不知道，”比利宾把脸转向安德烈公爵说道，“法国军队的诸多可怖（我险些儿说成俄国军队）比起这个人在女人中间干的勾当来是算不了一回事的。”

“Lafemmeestlacompagnedel'homme，”②伊波利特公爵说道，开始戴上单目眼镜观看他那双架起来的脚。

比利宾和自己人注视伊波利特的眼睛时哈哈大笑起来。安德烈公爵看到，这个伊波利特是这个团体的丑角，他（应当承认）几乎因为伊波利特和妻子相好而感到醋意。

“不，我要请您品味一下库拉金，”比利宾对博尔孔斯基轻声地说，“他议论政治时很会盅惑人心，要看看这副傲慢的样子。”

他在伊波利特近旁坐下来，皱起额头，和他谈论有关政治的问题。安德烈公爵和其他人都站在他们二人周围。

“LecabinetdeBerlinnepeutpasexprimerunsentiB

mentd'alliance，”伊波利特意味深长地环顾众人，开始发言，“sansexprimer…commedanssadernierenote…vouscomprenez…vouscomprenez…etpuissisaMajestél'empereurnedérogepasauprincipedenotrealliance…”①

“Attendez，jen'aipasfini…”他一把抓住安德烈公爵的手，说道，“jesupposequel'interventionseraplusfortequelanon—intervention，Et…”他沉默片刻，“Onnepourrapasimputeràlafindenon－recevoirnotredépêchedu28novembreVoilàcom－menttoutcelafinira．”②他松开博尔孔斯基的手，以此表示，他的话讲完了。“Demosthènes，jetereconnaisaucaillouquetuascachédanstabouched'or！”③

比利宾说道，他高兴得一头的头发都散开了。

大家都笑了起来。伊波利特的笑声最响亮。看起来，他气喘吁吁，觉得不好受，但是他没法忍住，发出一阵狂笑，好像拉长了他那一向显得呆板的面孔似的。

“喂，诸位，原来是这么回事，”比利宾说道，“无论在这栋屋里，还是在布吕恩，博尔孔斯基总是我的客人，我要尽可能让他饱尝一番本地生活上的乐趣。如果在维也纳，那是容易办到的事。可是在这里，danscevilaintroumorave④，就更难办了，因此，我向你们大家求援。ⅡfautluifaiveleshonBneursdeBrtinn，⑤看戏的事由你们负责，社团的事由我承担，伊波利特，不消说，应酬女人的事由您主持好了。”

①法语：柏林内阁不能表示它对联盟的意见，在最近的照会中……没有表示……其实，你们明白，你们明白……如果皇帝陛下不改变我们联盟的实质……

②法语：等一等，我还没有讲完……我想，干涉比不干涉更稳妥。而且，……


不可能认为，问题就在于完全不接受我方十一月二十八日的紧急报告……其结局必将是这样的。

③法语：德摩西尼，我凭你放在你那金口中的石头就能把你认出来。

④法语：在这令人厌恶的摩拉维亚山洞中。

⑤法语：就应当请他饱尝一番布吕恩的风味。


“应当请他瞧瞧阿梅莉，真是美不胜言！”一个自己人吻着自己的指头尖，说道。

“总而言之，应当让这个嗜血成性的士兵倾向仁爱的观点。”比利宾说道。

“诸位，我未必能够享受你们的款待，我现在应该走了。”

博尔孔斯基看着表，说道。

“上哪里去呢？”

“去朝拜皇帝。”

“啊，啊！啊！”

“嗬！博尔孔斯基，再见！公爵，再见！早点回来用午餐，”

可以听见几个人异口同声地说，“我们来应付您了。”

“当您和皇帝谈话时，请尽量夸奖军粮供应的措施和适宜的行进路线的分布。”比利宾把博尔孔斯基送到接待室时，说道。

“我心里本想，知道多少就夸奖多少，可是办不到。”博尔孔斯基面露微笑，答道。

“嗯，总之要尽量多说点。他很喜欢接见人，可是他本人不喜欢讲话，也不善于讲话，以后您会知道的。”

CHAPTER XII

Chinese


AT THE LEVÉE the Emperor Francis only looked intently into Prince Andrey's face, and nodded his long head to him as he stood in the place assigned him among the Austrian officers. But after the levée the adjutant of the previous evening ceremoniously communicated to Bolkonsky the Emperor's desire to give him an audience. The Emperor Francis received him, standing in the middle of the room. Prince Andrey was struck by the fact that before beginning the conversation, the Emperor seemed embarrassed, didn't know what to say, and reddened.

“Tell me when the battle began,” he asked hurriedly. Prince Andrey answered. The question was followed by others, as simple: “Was Kutuzov well?” “How long was it since he left Krems?” and so on. The Emperor spoke as though his sole aim was to put a certain number of questions. The answers to these questions, as was only too evident, could have no interest for him.

“At what o'clock did the battle begin?” asked the Emperor.

“I cannot inform your majesty at what o'clock the battle began in the front lines, but at Därenstein, where I was, the troops began the attack about six in the evening,” said Bolkonsky, growing more eager, and conceiving that now there was a chance for him to give an accurate description, just as he had it ready in his head, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled and interrupted him:

“How many miles?”

“From where to where, your majesty?”

“From Därenstein to Krems?”

“Three and a half miles, your majesty.”

“The French abandoned the left bank?”

“As our scouts reported, the last crossed the river on rafts in the night.”

“Have you enough provisions at Krems?”

“Provisions have not been furnished to the amount…”

The Emperor interrupted him:

“At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?”

“At seven o'clock, I think.”

“At seven o'clock? Very sad! very sad!”

The Emperor said that he thanked him, and bowed. Prince Andrey withdrew, and was at once surrounded by courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw friendly eyes gazing at him, and heard friendly voices addressing him. The adjutant of the preceding evening reproached him for not having stopped at the palace, and offered him his own house. The minister of war came up and congratulated him on the Order of Maria Theresa of the third grade, with which the Emperor was presenting him. The Empress's chamberlain invited him to her majesty. The archduchess, too, wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds he was trying to collect his ideas. The Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him away to a window, and began to talk to him.

Contrary to Bilibin's prognostications, the news he brought was received with rejoicing. A thanksgiving service was arranged. Kutuzov was decorated with the great cross of Maria Theresa, and rewards were bestowed on the whole army. Bolkonsky received invitations on all hands, and had to spend the whole morning paying visits to the principal personages in the Austrian Government. After paying his visits, Prince Andrey, at five o'clock in the evening, was returning homewards to Bilibin's, mentally composing a letter to his father about the battle and his reception at Bränn. At the steps of Bilibin's house stood a cart packed half full of things, and Franz, Bilibin's servant, came out of the doorway, with difficulty dragging a travelling-trunk.

Before going back to Bilibin's Prince Andrey had driven to a book-seller's to lay in a stock of books for the campaign, and had spent some time in the shop.

“What is it?” asked Bolkonsky.

“Ah, your excellency!” said Franz, with some exertion rolling the trunk on the cart. “We are to move on still farther. The scoundrel is already at our heels again!”

“Eh? what?” queried Prince Andrey.

Bilibin came out to meet Bolkonsky. His ordinarily composed face looked excited.

“No, no, confess that this is charming,” he said, “this story of the bridge of Tabor. They have crossed it without striking a blow.”

Prince Andrey could not understand.

“Why, where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town knows by now?”

“I come from the archduchess. I heard nothing there.”

“And didn't you see that people are packing up everywhere?”

“I have seen nothing … But what's the matter?” Prince Andrey asked impatiently.

“What's the matter? The matter is that the French have crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defending, and they haven't blown up the bridge, so that Murat is at this moment running along the road to Bränn, and to-day or to-morrow they'll be here.”

“Here? But how is it the bridge wasn't blown up, since it was mined?”

“Why, that's what I ask you. No one—not Bonaparte himself—can tell why.” Bolkonsky shrugged his shoulders.

“But if they have crossed the bridge, then it will be all over with the army; it will be cut off,” he said.

“That's the whole point,” answered Bilibin. “Listen. The French enter Vienna, as I told you. Everything is satisfactory. Next day, that is yesterday, Messieurs les Maréchaux, Murat, Lannes, and Beliard get on their horses and ride off to the bridge. (Remark that all three are Gascons.) ‘Gentlemen,' says one, ‘you know that the Tabor bridge has been mined and countermined, and is protected by a formidable fortification and fifteen thousand troops, who have orders to blow up the bridge and not to let us pass. But our gracious Emperor Napoleon will be pleased if we take the bridge. Let us go us there and take it.' ‘Yes, let us go,' say the others; and they start off and take the bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army on this side of the Danube, they are coming straight upon us, and upon you and your communications.”

“Leave off jesting,” said Prince Andrey, with mournful seriousness. The news grieved Prince Andrey, and yet it gave him pleasure. As soon as he heard that the Russian army was in such a hopeless position, the idea struck him that he was the very man destined to extricate the Russian army from that position, and that it had come—the Toulon—that would lift him for ever from out of the ranks of unknown officers, and open the first path to glory for him! As he listened to Bilibin, he was already considering how, on reaching the army, he would, at a council of war, give the opinion that alone could save the army, and how he would be entrusted alone to execute the plan.

“Leave off joking,” he said.

“I'm not joking,” Bilibin went on. “Nothing could be more truthful or more melancholy. These three gentlemen advance to the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they declare that it's a truce, and that they, the marshals, are come for a parley with Prince Auersperg. The officer on duty lets them into the tête du pont. They tell him a thousand Gascon absurdities; say that the war is over, that Emperor Francis has arranged a meeting with Bonaparte, that they desire to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg. These Gascon gentlemen embrace the officers, make jokes, and sit about on the cannons, while a French battalion meantime advances unnoticed on the bridge, flings the sacks of inflammable material into the river, and marches up to the tête du pont. Finally the lieutenant-general himself appears, our dear Prince Auersperg von Mautern. ‘My dear enemy! Flower of Austrian chivalry! hero of the Turkish war! Hostility is at end, we can take each other's hands … the Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience to make the acquaintance of Prince Auersperg.' In a word, these gentlemen—not Gascons for nothing—so bewilder Auersperg with fair words—he is so flattered at this speedy intimacy with French marshals, so dazzled by the spectacle of their cloaks, and of the ostrich feathers of Murat—that their fire gets into his eyes and makes him forget that he ought to be firing on the enemy” (in spite of the interest of his story, Bilibin did not omit to pause after this mot, to give time for its appreciation). “A French battalion runs into the tête du pont, spikes the cannons, and the bridge is taken. No, but really the best part of the whole episode,” he went on, his excitement subsiding under the interest of his own story, “is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal for firing the mines and blowing up the bridge, this sergeant seeing the French troops running on to the bridge wanted to fire, but Lannes pulled his arm away. The sergeant, who seems to have been sharper than his general, goes up to Auersperg and says: ‘Prince, they're deceiving you, here are the French!' Murat sees the game is up if he lets the sergeant have his say. With an affectation of surprise (a true Gascon!) he addresses Auersperg: ‘Is this the Austrian discipline so highly extolled all over the world,' says he, ‘do you let a man of low rank speak to you like this?' It was a stroke of genius. The Prince of Auersperg is touched in his honour and has the sergeant put under arrest. No, but confess that all this story of the bridge of Tabor is charming. It is neither stupidity, nor cowardice …”

“It is treason, perhaps,” said Prince Andrey, vividly picturing to himself grey overcoats, wounds, the smoke and sound of firing, and the glory awaiting him.

“Not that either. This puts the court into a pretty pickle,” pursued Bilibin. “It is not treason, nor cowardice, nor stupidity; it is just as it was at Ulm …” He seemed to ponder, seeking the phrase, “it is … c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackés,” he said, feeling he was uttering un mot, and a fresh one, one that would be repeated. His creased-up brows let the puckers smooth out quickly in sign of satisfaction, and with a faint smile he fell to scrutinizing his finger-nails.

“Where are you off to?” he said, suddenly turning to Prince Andrey, who had got up and was going to his room.

“I must start.”

“Where to?”

“To the army.”

“But you meant to stay another two days?”

“But now I am going at once”; and Prince Andrey, after a few words arranging about his journey, went to his room.

“Do you know, my dear boy,” said Bilibin, coming into his room, “I have been thinking about you. What are you going for?” And in support of the irrefutability of his arguments on the subject, all the creases ran off his face.

Prince Andrey looked inquiringly at him and made no reply.

“Why are you going? I know you consider that it's your duty to gallop off to the army now that the army is in danger. I understand that, my boy, it's heroism.”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Prince Andrey.

“But you are un philosophe, be one fully, look at things from the other side, and you will see that it is your duty, on the contrary, to take care of yourself. Leave that to others who are no good for anything else … You have received no orders to go back, and you are not dismissed from here, so that you can remain and go with us, where our ill-luck takes us. They say they are going to Olmätz. And Olmätz is a very charming town. And we can travel there comfortably together in my carriage.”

“That's enough joking, Bilibin,” said Bolkonsky.

“I am speaking to you sincerely as a friend. Consider where are you going and with what object now, when you can stay here. You have two alternatives before you” (he puckered up the skin of his left temple) “either you won't reach the army before peace will be concluded, or you will share the defeat and disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army.” And Bilibin let his brow go smooth again, feeling that his dilemma was beyond attack.

“That I can't enter into,” said Prince Andrey coldly, but he thought: “I am going to save the army.”

“My dear fellow, you are a hero,” said Bilibin

第十二章

英文 


翌日，他醒来得很迟。重温着往日的印象，首先想到今日要朝拜弗朗茨皇帝，想起军政大臣、恭恭敬敬的侍从武官、比利宾和昨日夜晚的闲谈。他要去朝拜，便穿上一套许久未穿的检阅服装，精神焕发，兴致勃勃，姿态亦优美，一只手绑着绷带，走进比利宾的书斋。书斋里有四个外交使团的绅士模样的人。博尔孔斯基认识公使馆的秘书伊波利特·库拉金公爵，比利宾介绍其余三个人和他相识。

经常到比利宾这里来的绅士派头的人都是一些年轻、家境富裕、快活的上层社会人士，他们无论在维也纳，还是在此地都结成一个独立的团体，这个团体的头头比利宾把它称为自己人（lesnotres）。这个几乎主要是由外交官构成的团体，看来有自己所固有的与战争和政治毫无关系的兴趣，这个团体对上层社会、对一些女士的态度和公务很感兴趣。看起来，这些有绅士派头的人都乐意吸收安德烈公爵加入他们的团体，认为他是自己人（他们对少数几个人表示尊敬）。因为人们尊敬他，才向他提出几个有关军队和战役的问题，以此作为话题。随即又闲谈起来，话里头夹杂着许多乱七八糟的笑话，而且议论他人的长短。

“不过这是件特别好的事，”有个人讲到外交官中一个同僚的失败时，说道，“其所以是件特别好的事，是因为奥国首相坦率地告诉他：他去伦敦上任是一种晋升，要他能这样看待这件事。你们能臆想得出他这时的模样吗？……”

“诸君，不过最糟的是，我要向你们揭发库拉金；有个人处于逆境，他这个唐璜却借机滋事。这个人多么可怕啊！”

伊波利特公爵躺在一把伏尔泰椅上，一双脚跷在扶手上，大笑起来。

“Parlez—moideca，”①他说道。

①法语：喂，您讲讲吧，喂，您讲讲吧。

②法语：女人是男人的伴侣。


“啊，唐璜！啊！一条毒蛇。”听见几个人异口同声地说。

“博尔孔斯基，您不知道，”比利宾把脸转向安德烈公爵说道，“法国军队的诸多可怖（我险些儿说成俄国军队）比起这个人在女人中间干的勾当来是算不了一回事的。”

“Lafemmeestlacompagnedel'homme，”②伊波利特公爵说道，开始戴上单目眼镜观看他那双架起来的脚。

比利宾和自己人注视伊波利特的眼睛时哈哈大笑起来。安德烈公爵看到，这个伊波利特是这个团体的丑角，他（应当承认）几乎因为伊波利特和妻子相好而感到醋意。

“不，我要请您品味一下库拉金，”比利宾对博尔孔斯基轻声地说，“他议论政治时很会盅惑人心，要看看这副傲慢的样子。”

他在伊波利特近旁坐下来，皱起额头，和他谈论有关政治的问题。安德烈公爵和其他人都站在他们二人周围。

“LecabinetdeBerlinnepeutpasexprimerunsentiB

mentd'alliance，”伊波利特意味深长地环顾众人，开始发言，“sansexprimer…commedanssadernierenote…vouscomprenez…vouscomprenez…etpuissisaMajestél'empereurnedérogepasauprincipedenotrealliance…”①

“Attendez，jen'aipasfini…”他一把抓住安德烈公爵的手，说道，“jesupposequel'interventionseraplusfortequelanon—intervention，Et…”他沉默片刻，“Onnepourrapasimputeràlafindenon－recevoirnotredépêchedu28novembreVoilàcom－menttoutcelafinira．”②他松开博尔孔斯基的手，以此表示，他的话讲完了。“Demosthènes，jetereconnaisaucaillouquetuascachédanstabouched'or！”③

比利宾说道，他高兴得一头的头发都散开了。

大家都笑了起来。伊波利特的笑声最响亮。看起来，他气喘吁吁，觉得不好受，但是他没法忍住，发出一阵狂笑，好像拉长了他那一向显得呆板的面孔似的。

“喂，诸位，原来是这么回事，”比利宾说道，“无论在这栋屋里，还是在布吕恩，博尔孔斯基总是我的客人，我要尽可能让他饱尝一番本地生活上的乐趣。如果在维也纳，那是容易办到的事。可是在这里，danscevilaintroumorave④，就更难办了，因此，我向你们大家求援。ⅡfautluifaiveleshonBneursdeBrtinn，⑤看戏的事由你们负责，社团的事由我承担，伊波利特，不消说，应酬女人的事由您主持好了。”

①法语：柏林内阁不能表示它对联盟的意见，在最近的照会中……没有表示……其实，你们明白，你们明白……如果皇帝陛下不改变我们联盟的实质……

②法语：等一等，我还没有讲完……我想，干涉比不干涉更稳妥。而且，……


不可能认为，问题就在于完全不接受我方十一月二十八日的紧急报告……其结局必将是这样的。

③法语：德摩西尼，我凭你放在你那金口中的石头就能把你认出来。

④法语：在这令人厌恶的摩拉维亚山洞中。

⑤法语：就应当请他饱尝一番布吕恩的风味。


“应当请他瞧瞧阿梅莉，真是美不胜言！”一个自己人吻着自己的指头尖，说道。

“总而言之，应当让这个嗜血成性的士兵倾向仁爱的观点。”比利宾说道。

“诸位，我未必能够享受你们的款待，我现在应该走了。”

博尔孔斯基看着表，说道。

“上哪里去呢？”

“去朝拜皇帝。”

“啊，啊！啊！”

“嗬！博尔孔斯基，再见！公爵，再见！早点回来用午餐，”

可以听见几个人异口同声地说，“我们来应付您了。”

“当您和皇帝谈话时，请尽量夸奖军粮供应的措施和适宜的行进路线的分布。”比利宾把博尔孔斯基送到接待室时，说道。

“我心里本想，知道多少就夸奖多少，可是办不到。”博尔孔斯基面露微笑，答道。

“嗯，总之要尽量多说点。他很喜欢接见人，可是他本人不喜欢讲话，也不善于讲话，以后您会知道的。”

CHAPTER XIII

Chinese


THE SAME NIGHT, after taking leave of the minister of war, Bolkonsky set off to join the army, not knowing where he should find it, at the risk of being caught by the French on the way to Krems.

At Bränn all the court and every one connected with it was packing up, and the heavy baggage was already being despatched to Olmätz. Near Esselsdorf, Prince Andrey came out on the road along which the Russian army was moving in the utmost haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was so obstructed with baggage-waggons that it was impossible to get by in a carriage. Prince Andrey procured a horse and a Cossack from the officer in command of the Cossacks, and hungry and weary he threaded his way in and out between the waggons and rode in search of the commander-in-chief and his own luggage. The most sinister rumours as to the position of the army reached him on the road, and the appearance of the army fleeing in disorder confirmed these rumours.

“As for that Russian army which English gold has brought from the ends of the universe, we are going to inflict upon it the same fate (the fate of the army of Ulm)”; he remembered the words of Bonaparte's address to his army at the beginning of the campaign, and these words aroused in him simultaneously admiration for the genius of his hero, a feeling of mortified pride, and the hope of glory. “And if there's nothing left but to die?” he thought. “Well, if it must be! I will do it no worse than others.”

Prince Andrey looked disdainfully at the endless, confused mass of companies, of baggage-waggons, parks of artillery, and again store-waggons, carts, and waggons of every possible form, pursuing one another and obstructing the muddy road three and four abreast. On every side, behind and before, as far as the ear could reach in every direction there was the rumble of wheels, the rattle of carts, of waggons, and of gun-carriages, the tramp of horses, the crack of whips, the shouts of drivers, the swearing of soldiers, of orderlies, and officers. At the sides of the roads he saw fallen horses, and sometimes their skinned carcases, broken-down waggons, with solitary soldiers sitting on them, waiting for something, detached groups of soldiers strayed from their companies, starting off to neighbouring villages, or dragging back from them fowls, sheep, hay, or sacks of stores of some sort. Where the road went uphill or downhill the crush became greater, and there was an uninterrupted roar of shouts. The soldiers floundering knee-deep in the mud clutched the guns and clung to the waggons in the midst of cracking whips, slipping hoofs, breaking traces and throat-splitting yells. The officers superintending their movements rode to and fro in front and behind the convoys. Their voices were faintly audible in the midst of the general uproar, their faces betrayed that they despaired of the possibility of checking the disorder.

“Voilà le cher holy armament,” thought Bolkonsky, recalling Bilibin's words.

He rode up to a convoy, intending to ask of some one of these men where he could find the commander-in-chief. Directly opposite to him came a strange vehicle, with one horse, obviously rigged up by soldiers with the resources at their disposal, and looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, and a coach. A soldier was driving it, and under the leathern tilt behind a cover sat a woman, muffled up in shawls. Prince Andrey rode up and was just addressing a question to the soldier, when his attention was taken off by the despairing shrieks of the woman in this conveyance. The officer, directing the traffic, aimed a blow at the soldier who sat in the coachman's seat, for trying to push in ahead of others, and the lash fell on the cover of the equipage. The woman shrieked shrilly. On catching sight of Prince Andrey, she looked out from under the cover and putting her thin arms out from the shawls and waving them, she screamed:

“Adjutant! sir! … For God's sake! … protect me. … What will happen to us? … I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh Chasseurs … they won't let us pass, we have dropped behind, lost our own people. …”

“I'll thrash you into mincemeat! turn back!” shouted the exasperated officer to the soldier: “turn back with your hussy!”

“Sir, protect us. What does it mean?” screamed the doctor's wife.

“Kindly let this cart get through. Don't you see that it is a woman?” said Prince Andrey, riding up to the officer.

The officer glanced at him, and without making any reply turned again to the soldier. “I'll teach you how to push in. … Back! …”

“Let it pass, I tell you,” repeated Prince Andrey, setting his lips tightly.

“And who are you?” cried the officer, turning upon him suddenly with drunken fury. “Who are you? Are you” (he put a peculiarly offensive intonation into the word) “in command, pray? I'm commanding officer here, not you. Back you go,” he repeated, “or I'll lash you into mincemeat.” The expression evidently pleased the officer.

“A nice snub he gave the little adjutant,” said a voice in the background.

Prince Andrey saw that the officer was in that stage of drunken unreasoning fury, when men do not remember what they say. He saw that his championship of the doctor's wife in the queer conveyance was exposing him to what he dreaded more than anything else in the world, what is called in French ridicule, but his instinct said something else. The officer had hardly uttered the last words when Prince Andrey rode up to him with a face distorted by frenzied anger, and raised his riding-whip: “Let—them—pass!”

The officer flourished his arm and hurriedly rode away.

“It's all their doing, these staff-officers, all the disorder,” he grumbled. “Do as you like.”

Prince Andrey, without lifting his eyes, made haste to escape from the doctor's wife, who called him her deliverer. And dwelling on the minutest detail of this humiliating scene with loathing, he galloped on towards the village, where he was told that the commander-in-chief was.

On reaching the village, he got off his horse, and went into the first house with the intention of resting for a moment at least, eating something, and getting all the mortifying impressions that were torturing him into some clear shape. “This is a mob of scoundrels, not an army,” he thought, going up to the window of the first house, when a familiar voice called him by his name.

He looked round. Out of a little window was thrust the handsome face of Nesvitsky. Nesvitsky, munching something in his moist mouth and beckoning to him, called him in.

“Bolkonsky! Bolkonsky! Don't you hear, eh? Make haste,” he shouted.

Going into the house, Prince Andrey found Nesvitsky and another adjutant having a meal. They hastily turned to Bolkonsky with the inquiry, had he any news? On their familiar faces Prince Andrey read alarm and uneasiness. That expression was particularly noticeable in Nesvitsky's face, usually so full of laughter.

“Where is the commander-in-chief?” asked Bolkonsky.

“Here in this house,” answered the adjutant.

“Well, is it true, about the peace and capitulation?” asked Nesvitsky.

“I ask you. I know nothing except that I have had great difficulty in getting through to you.”

“And the things that have been going on, my boy! Awful! I was wrong to laugh at Mack; there's worse in store for us,” said Nesvitsky. “But sit down, have something to eat.”

“You won't find your baggage or anything now, prince, and God knows what's become of your Pyotr,” said the other adjutant.

“Where are the headquarters?”

“We shall spend the night in Znaim.”

“Well, I got everything I wanted packed up on two horses,” said Nesvitsky; “and capital packs they made for me, fit to scamper as far as the Bohemian mountains at least. Things are in a bad way, my boy. But, I say, you must be ill, shivering like that?” Nesvitsky queried, noticing how Prince Andrey shuddered, as though in contact with a galvanic battery.

“No; I'm all right,” answered Prince Andrey. He had recalled at that instant the incident with the doctor's wife and the transport officer.

“What is the commander-in-chief doing here?” he asked.

“I can't make out anything,” said Nesvitsky.

“I know one thing, that it's all loathsome, loathsome, loathsome,” said Prince Andrey, and he went into the house where the commander-in-chief was stopping.

Passing by Kutuzov's carriage, the exhausted saddle-horses of his suite, and the Cossacks talking loudly together, Prince Andrey went into the outer room. Kutuzov himself was, as Prince Andrey had been told, in the inner room of the hut with Prince Bagration and Weierother. The latter was the Austrian general, who had taken Schmidt's place. In the outer room little Kozlovsky was squatting on his heels in front of a copying-clerk. The latter was sitting on a tub turned upside down, he was writing rapidly with the cuffs of his uniform tucked up. Kozlovsky's face was careworn; he too looked as if he had not slept all night. He glanced at Prince Andrey, and did not even nod to him.

“The second line.… Ready?” he went on, dictating to the clerk: “the Kiev Grenadiers, the Podolsky …”

“Don't be in such a hurry, your honour,” the clerk answered rudely and angrily, looking at Kozlovsky. Through the door he heard at that moment Kutuzov's voice, eager and dissatisfied, and other unfamiliar voices interrupting him. The sound of those voices, the inattention with which Kozlovsky glanced at him, the churlishness of the harassed clerk, the fact that the clerk and Kozlovsky were sitting round a tub on the floor at so little distance from the commander-in-chief, and that the Cossacks holding the horses laughed so loudly at the window—all made Prince Andrey feel that some grave calamity was hanging over them.

Prince Andrey turned to Kozlovsky with urgent questions.

“In a minute, prince,” said Kozlovsky. “The disposition of Bagration's troops…”

“What about capitulation?”

“Nothing of the sort; arrangements have been made for a battle!”

Prince Andrey went towards the door from which the sound of voices came. But at the moment when he was going to open the door, the voices in the room paused, the door opened of itself, and Kutuzov with his eagle nose and podgy face appeared in the doorway. Prince Andrey was standing exactly opposite Kutuzov; but from the expression of the commander-in-chief's one seeing eye it was evident that thought and anxiety so engrossed him as to veil, as it were, his vision. He looked straight into his adjutant's face and did not recognise him.

“Well, have you finished?” he addressed Kozlovsky.

“In a second, your Excellency.”

Bagration, a short lean man, not yet elderly, with a resolute and impassive face of oriental type, came out after the commander-in-chief.

“I have the honour to report myself,” Prince Andrey said for the second time, rather loudly, as he handed Kutuzov an envelope.

“Ah, from Vienna? Very good! Later, later!” Kutuzov went out to the steps with Bagration.

“Well, prince, good-bye,” he said to Bagration. “Christ be with you! May my blessing bring you a great victory!” Kutuzov's face suddenly softened, and there were tears in his eyes. With his left arm he drew Bagration to him, while with his right hand, on which he wore a ring, he crossed him with a gesture evidently habitual. He offered him his podgy cheek, but Bagration kissed him on the neck. “Christ be with you!” repeated Kutuzov, and he went towards his carriage. “Get in with me,” he said to Bolkonsky.

“Your Most High Excellency, I should have liked to be of use here. Allow me to remain in Prince Bagration's detachment.”

“Get in,” said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonsky still delayed: “I have need of good officers myself, myself.”

They took their seats in the carriage and drove for some minutes in silence.

“There is a great deal, a great deal of everything still before us,” he said, with an expression of old-age clairvoyance, as though he saw all that was passing in Bolkonsky's heart. “If one-tenth part of his detachment comes in, I shall thank God,” added Kutuzov, as though talking to himself.

Prince Andrey glanced at Kutuzov, and unconsciously his eyes were caught by the carefully washed seams of the scar on his temple, where the bullet had gone through his head at Ismail, and the empty eyesocket, not a yard from him. “Yes, he has the right to speak so calmly of the destruction of these men,” thought Bolkonsky.

“That's why I ask you to send me to that detachment,” he said.

Kutuzov made no reply. He seemed to have forgotten what was said to him, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, swaying easily in the soft carriage springs, Kutuzov addressed Prince Andrey. There was no trace of emotion on his face now. With delicate irony he questioned Prince Andrey about the details of his interview with the Emperor, about the comments he had heard at Court on the Krems engagement, and about ladies of their common acquaintance.