War and Peace Leo Tolstoy (best e books to read .TXT) 📖

was the call for contributions of men and money, a necessity that as soon as the promises had been made assumed a legal, official form and became unavoidable.

With the enemy’s approach to Moscow, the Moscovites’ view of their situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even more frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man’s power to foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second. So it was now with the inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people had been as gay in Moscow as that year.

Rostopchín’s broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a potman, and a Moscow burgher called Karpúshka Chigírin, “who⁠—having been a militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub⁠—heard that Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the French in very bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under the sign of the eagle, began to address the assembled people,” were read and discussed, together with the latest of Vasíli Lvóvich Púshkin’s bouts rimés.

In the corner room at the Club, members gathered to read these broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpúshka jeered at the French, saying: “They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are all dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a hayfork.” Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and vulgar. It was said that Rostopchín had expelled all Frenchmen and even all foreigners from Moscow, and that there had been some spies and agents of Napoleon among them; but this was told chiefly to introduce Rostopchín’s witty remark on that occasion. The foreigners were deported to Nízhni by boat, and Rostopchín had said to them in French: “Rentrez en vous-mêmes; entrez dans la barque, et n’en faites pas une barque de Charon.”87 There was talk of all the government offices having been already removed from Moscow, and to this Shinshín’s witticism was added⁠—that for that alone Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamónov’s regiment would cost him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezúkhov had spent even more on his, but that the best thing about Bezúkhov’s action was that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the head of his regiment without charging anything for the show.

“You don’t spare anyone,” said Julie Drubetskáya as she collected and pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed fingers.

Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a farewell soiree.

“Bezúkhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What pleasure is there to be so caustique?”

“A forfeit!” cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie called “mon chevalier,” and who was going with her to Nízhni.

In Julie’s set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been agreed that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who made a slip and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of Voluntary Contributions.

“Another forfeit for a Gallicism,” said a Russian writer who was present. “ ‘What pleasure is there to be’ is not Russian!”

“You spare no one,” continued Julie to the young man without heeding the author’s remark.

“For caustique⁠—I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay again for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I won’t be responsible,” she remarked, turning to the author: “I have neither the money nor the time, like Prince Galítsyn, to engage a master to teach me Russian!”

“Ah, here he is!” she added. “Quand on⁠ ⁠… No, no,” she said to the militia officer, “you won’t catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its rays!” and she smiled amiably at Pierre. “We were just talking of you,” she said with the facility in lying natural to a society woman. “We were saying that your regiment would be sure to be better than Mamónov’s.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me of my regiment,” replied Pierre, kissing his hostess’ hand and taking a seat beside her. “I am so sick of it.”

“You will, of course, command it yourself?” said Julie, directing a sly, sarcastic glance toward the militia officer.

The latter in Pierre’s presence had ceased to be caustic, and his face expressed perplexity as to what Julie’s smile might mean. In spite of his absentmindedness and good nature, Pierre’s personality immediately checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face.

“No,” said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. “I should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I should hardly be able to climb onto a horse.”

Among those whom Julie’s guests happened to choose to gossip about were the Rostóvs.

“I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way,” said Julie. “And he is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The Razumóvskis wanted to buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it drags on and on. He asks too much.”

“No, I think the sale will come off in a few days,” said someone. “Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now.”

“Why?” asked Julie. “You don’t think Moscow is in danger?”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“I? What a question! I am going because⁠ ⁠…