“Well, then, young man?” he said, sighing and looking into Rostov’s eyes from under his raised eyebrows. Some sort of light, quick as an electric spark, passed from Telyanin’s eyes to the eyes of Rostov and back, and forth and back again, all in an instant.
“Come here,” said Rostov, seizing Telyanin by the arm. He almost dragged him to the window. “That’s Denisov’s money, you took it…” he whispered in his ear.
“What?…What?…How dare you? What?…” said Telyanin.
But these words sounded like a pitiful, desperate cry and a plea for forgiveness. As soon as Rostov heard the sound of that voice, a huge burden of doubt fell from his soul. He felt joy and in the same instant also pity for the wretched man standing before him; but he had to bring the matter he had begun to a conclusion.
“God knows what the people here may think,” Telyanin murmured, seizing his peaked cap and going into a small empty room, “we must have a talk…”
“I know it and I’ll prove it,” said Rostov.
“I…”
Every muscle in Telyanin’s frightened, pale face began to quiver; his eyes shifted as before, but somewhere low down, not rising to Rostov’s face, and there was a sound of sobbing.
“Count!…don’t ruin…a young man…here’s this wretched…money, take it…” He threw it on the table. “I have an old father, a mother!…”
Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin’s eyes, and, not saying a word, started out of the room. But at the door he stopped and came back.
“My God,” he said, with tears in his eyes, “how could you have done it?”
“Count…” said Telyanin, going up to the junker.
“Don’t touch me,” said Rostov, drawing back. “If you need the money, take it.” He flung the purse at him and ran out of the tavern.
V
On the evening of the same day, an animated conversation was going on among the squadron officers in Denisov’s quarters.
“And I tell you, Rostov, that you’ve got to apologize to the regimental commander,” said a tall staff captain with grizzled hair, enormous mustaches, and a large-featured, wrinkled face, to the crimson-faced, excited Rostov.
Staff Captain Kirsten had twice been broken to the ranks for affairs of honor and had twice won back his commission.
“I won’t allow anyone to call me a liar!” cried Rostov. “He called me a liar, and I called him a liar. Let it remain at that. He can assign me to duty every day, or put me under arrest, but no one will make me apologize, because if he, as the regimental commander, considers it beneath him to give me satisfaction, then…”
“Wait a minute, my dear boy, listen to me,” the staff captain interrupted in his bass voice, calmly stroking his long mustache. “You tell the regimental commander, in front of other officers, that an officer has stolen…”
“It’s not my fault that the conversation started in front of other officers. Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken in front of them, but I’m no diplomat. I joined the hussars because I thought there was no need for subtleties here, but he calls me a liar…so let him give me satisfaction…”
“That’s all well and good, nobody thinks you’re a coward, but that’s not the point. Ask Denisov what it looks like if a junker demands satisfaction from a regimental commander.”
Denisov, chewing his mustache, was listening to the conversation with a gloomy air, apparently unwilling to enter into it. To the staff captain’s question he shook his head negatively.
“You tell the regimental commander about this muck in front of officers,” the staff captain went on. “Bogdanych” (the regimental commander was known as Bogdanych) “brings you up short.”
“He didn’t bring me up short, he said I wasn’t telling the truth.”
“Well, yes, and you said a heap of foolish things to him, and you’ve got to apologize.”
“Not for anything!” cried Rostov.
“I wouldn’t have thought it of you,” the staff captain said gravely and sternly. “You don’t want to apologize, but you, my dear boy, are to blame all around, not only before him, but before the whole regiment, before us all. And here’s how: you might have reflected and taken advice on how to handle this matter, but you blurted it right out, and in front of officers. What’s the regimental commander to do now? Should he prosecute the officer and besmirch the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of one scoundrel? Is that your view of it? Well, it’s not ours. And Bogdanych is a fine fellow for saying you weren’t telling the truth. It’s unpleasant, but what’s to be done, my dear boy, you asked for it. And now, when the affair should be hushed up, out of some sort of cockiness you refuse to apologize, but want to have it all out. It offends you that you have to go on duty, but what is it for you to apologize to an old and honorable officer! Whatever Bogdanych may have done, he is, after all, an honorable and brave old colonel—and yet you’re offended, and to besmirch the whole regiment is nothing to you!” The staff captain’s voice began to tremble. “You, my dear boy, have been with the regiment next to no time; here today, tomorrow somewhere else as a little adjutant; you couldn’t care less if people say: ‘There are thieves among the Pavlogradsky officers!’ But it’s not all the same to us. Isn’t that right, Denisov? It’s not all the same?”
Denisov still kept silent and did not stir, glancing at Rostov from time to time with his shining black eyes.
“Your cockiness is dear to you, you don’t feel like apologizing,” the staff captain went on, “but for us old-timers, since we’ve grown up and, God willing, will die serving in the regiment, the honor of the regiment is dear to us, and Bogdanych knows it. Oh, how dear it is! And this is not good, not good. Whether it offends you or not, I always speak the plain truth. It’s not good!”
And the staff captain got up and turned away from Rostov.
“True, devil take it!” shouted Denisov, jumping up. “Well, so, Rostov!”
Rostov, blushing and paling, looked now at the one, now at the other officer.
“No, gentlemen, no…don’t think…I understand very well, you’re wrong to think it of me…I…for me…for the honor of the regiment…well, so? I’ll show it by my deeds, and for me the honor of the flag…Well, anyhow, it’s true, I’m to blame!…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m to blame, I’m to blame all around! Well, what more do you want?…”
“That’s the way, Count!” the staff captain cried, turning and slapping him on the shoulder with his big hand.
“It’s true what I told you,” shouted Denisov, “he’s a good lad!”
“That’s better, Count!” the staff captain repeated, as if beginning to call him by his title on account of his acknowledgment. “Go and apologize, Your Excellency, yes, sir.”
“Gentlemen, I’ll do anything, nobody will hear a word from me,” Rostov said in a pleading voice, “but apologize I cannot, by God, I cannot, do what you will! How am I going to apologize, like a little boy asking forgiveness?”
Denisov laughed.
“So much the worse for you. Bogdanych is rancorous, you’ll pay for your stubbornness,” said Kirsten.
“By God, it’s not stubbornness! I can’t describe the feeling to you, I can’t…”
“Well, as you will,” said the staff captain. “So, what’s become of the blackguard now?” he asked Denisov.
“He’s reported himself sick, as of tomorrow he’s been ordered struck off,” said Denisov.
“It’s a sickness, there’s no other explanation,” said the staff captain.
“Sickness or no sickness, he’d better not show his face to me—I’ll kill him!” Denisov shouted out bloodthirstily.
Zherkov came into the room.
“What brings you here?” the officers suddenly addressed the newcomer.
“On the march, gentlemen. Mack has surrendered and his whole army with him.”