XVI
At the men’s end of the table, the conversation was becoming more and more animated. The colonel said that the manifesto with the declaration of war had already been published in Petersburg, and that a copy, which he had seen himself, had been delivered today by messenger to the commander in chief.
“And what the deuce makes us go to war with Bonaparte?” said Shinshin. “Il a déjà rabattu le caquet à l’Autriche. Je crains que cette fois ce ne soit notre tour.”*113
The colonel was a tall, stout, and sanguine German, obviously a seasoned soldier and a patriot. He took offense at Shinshin’s words.
“Pecause, my tear sir,” he said, pronouncing the b as a p and the d as a t, “pecause the emperor knows that. He said in the manifesto that he cannot look mit intifference at the tangers that threaten Russia, and that the security of the empire, its tignity, and the sacretness of its alliances…” he said, for some reason giving special emphasis to the word alliances, as if this was the essence of the matter.
And with that impeccable official memory peculiar to him, he repeated the introductory words of the manifesto: “…and the desire, which constitutes the sole and absolute aim of the sovereign, to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations, led to his present decision to move part of the army abroad and to make further efforts towards the achievement of that intention.”34
“It’s pecause of that, my tear sir,” he concluded didactically, drinking a glass of wine and looking to the count for encouragement.
“Connaissez-vous le proverbe: ‘Jerome, Jerome, stay close to home, keep your shovel in the loam’?” asked Shinshin, wincing and smiling. “Cela nous convient à merveille. Take Suvorov35—even he got beaten à plate couture, and where are our Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,”†114 he said, constantly switching from Russian to French.
“Ve must fight to the last trop of plood,” said the colonel, pounding the table, “und ti-i-ie for our emperor, and then all vill be vell. And reason as little as po-o-ossible” (he especially drew out the word possible), “as little as po-o-ossible,” he concluded, again addressing the count. “So ve old hussars see it, anyvay. And how to you, a young man and a young hussar, see it?” he added, turning to Nikolai, who, hearing that things had got on to the war, had abandoned his interlocutrice and was looking all eyes and listening all ears to the colonel.
“I agree with you completely,” replied Nikolai, blushing all over, turning his plate and rearranging the glasses, and with such a determined and desperate air as though he was exposed right then to great danger. “I’m convinced that the Russians must either die or conquer,” he said, aware himself, as the others were, once the word had been spoken, that it was too rapturous and pompous for the present occasion and therefore awkward.
“C’est bien beau ce que vous venez de dire,”*115 Julie, who was sitting next to him, said with a sigh. Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears, behind her ears, and down her neck and shoulders, as Nikolai was speaking. Pierre listened to what the colonel said and nodded approvingly.
“That’s very nice,” he said.
“A real hussar, young man,” cried the colonel, pounding the table again.
“What’s this noise about?” Marya Dmitrievna’s bass voice was suddenly heard all down the table. “What are you pounding the table for?” she addressed the hussar. “Why are you getting excited? Maybe you think the French are here in front of you?”
“I’m speakink the truth,” the hussar said, smiling.
“It’s all about the war,” the count shouted down the table. “My son’s going, Marya Dmitrievna, my son.”
“I’ve got four sons in the army, and I’m not grieving. It’s all God’s wilclass="underline" you can die in your sleep, and God can spare you in battle,” the dense voice of Marya Dmitrievna rang out effortlessly from the other end of the table.
“That’s so.”
And the conversation again became concentrated, the ladies’ at their end of the table, the men’s at theirs.
“You don’t dare ask,” said Natasha’s little brother, “you don’t dare ask!”
“Yes, I do,” replied Natasha.
Her face suddenly flushed, expressing a desperate and merry resolve. She stood up, her eyes inviting Pierre, who sat across from her, to listen, and addressed her mother.
“Mama!” her throaty child’s voice rang out for the whole table to hear.
“What is it?” the countess asked fearfully, but, seeing from her daughter’s face that it was a prank, she sternly waved her hand at her, making a threatening and negative gesture with her head.
The conversation hushed.
“Mama! what’s for dessert?” Natasha’s little voice rang out still more resolutely, without faltering.
The countess wanted to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook her fat finger.
“Cossack!” she said menacingly.
Most of the guests looked at the parents, not knowing how to take this escapade.
“You’re going to get it!” said the countess.
“Mama! what’s for dessert?” cried Natasha, boldly now and with capricious merriment, certain beforehand that her escapade would be taken well.
Sonya and fat Petya hid their faces with laughter.
“So I dared,” Natasha whispered to her little brother and to Pierre, at whom she glanced again.
“Ice cream, only you won’t get any,” said Marya Dmitrievna.
Natasha saw there was nothing to fear, so she was not afraid of Marya Dmitrievna either.
“What kind of ice cream, Marya Dmitrievna? I don’t like vanilla.”
“Carrot.”
“No, what kind, Marya Dmitrievna, what kind?” she nearly shouted. “I want to know!”
Marya Dmitrievna and the countess laughed, and all the guests followed suit. Everyone laughed not at Marya Dmitrievna’s reply, but at the inconceivable boldness and adroitness of this girl, who was both smart and pert enough to treat Marya Dmitrievna that way.
Natasha left off only when they told her there would be pineapple ice cream. Before the ice cream, champagne was served. The music struck up again, the count kissed his dear countess, and the guests, rising, wished the countess a happy name day, and clinked glasses across the table with the count, the children, and each other. Again the waiters scurried about, chairs scraped, and the guests, in the same order but with redder faces, returned to the drawing room and the count’s study.
XVII
Tables were set up for Boston, parties were chosen, and the count’s guests settled themselves in the two drawing rooms, the sitting room, and the library.
The count, his cards spread in a fan, refrained with difficulty from his usual after-dinner nap and laughed at everything. The young people, at the countess’s urging, gathered around the clavichord and the harp. Julie was the first, at everybody’s request, to play a piece with variations for the harp, and, along with the other girls, began asking Natasha and Nikolai, known for their musicality, to sing something. Natasha, who was addressed like a grown-up, was obviously very proud of it, but at the same time timid.