Chapter 72 chapter Ten

On August 30 Pierre returned to Moscow.He was caught by Count Rastopching's adjutant near the city gate. "We are looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The count must see you. He has a very important business to ask you to come to him at once." Pierre did not go home, but called a carriage and went to the commander of the garrison. Count Rastopchin had just returned to the city this morning from his dacha on the outskirts of Sokolniki.The anterooms and anterooms of the earl's mansion were crowded with officials, some on orders and others for instructions.Vasilichkov and Platov had met the count and explained to him that the defense of Moscow was impossible and that Moscow would be abandoned.Although the news was still hidden from the residents, all civil and military officials knew that Moscow would fall into the hands of the enemy.In order to shirk their responsibilities, the officials all came to the garrison commander for instructions on what to do with the departments under their jurisdiction.

Pierre went into the anteroom, where a messenger from the army was coming out of Count Rastopching's room. The messenger waved hopelessly at the various questions posed to him and crossed the hall. Pierre was waiting to be interviewed in the reception room, looking around the room with tired eyes on all kinds of civil and military officials, old and young.The officials all appeared sullen and anxious.Pierre approached a group of officials, one of whom he knew.They greeted Pierre and continued their conversation. "It's okay to drive them away first and then let them back, but we can't say anything about this situation now."

"But he wrote it like this." The other said, pointing to a piece of printed matter in his hand. "That's another matter. It's necessary for the common people," said the first official. "What is it?" Pierre asked. "Here, new announcement." Pierre took the bulletin and read it: His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief has passed through Mozhaisk in order to join the troops approaching him, and has taken up a strong position against which the enemy will not suddenly attack him.Forty-eight cannon and ammunition have been delivered to him here.The Commander-in-Chief said he would defend Moscow to the last drop of blood, even preparing for street fighting.Brothers, don't worry about the closure of government agencies, we still need to maintain order, and our courts will try criminals!When necessary, I will convene urban and rural youth.I will make an appeal in a day or two, but it is not necessary yet, so I will remain silent for the time being.With an axe, with a spear, but with a three-pronged fork: the Frenchman weighs no more than a sheaf of rye.Tomorrow, after dinner, I will take the Virgin of Iver Church to Ekaterina Hospital to visit the wounded.We will sprinkle holy water there for a speedy recovery.I am in good health now.I was sick in one eye, but now both eyes are bright.

"But I've heard from soldiers," said Pierre, "that you can't fight anything in the city, and the positions..." "Yeah, that's what we said," said the first official. "'I had a disease in one eye, but now both eyes are clear.' What do you mean by that?" asked Pierre. "The count has had a sty," said the adjutant, smiling, "and I told him that he was disturbed when the people asked him what was the matter. And, count," the adjutant said to Pierre with a sudden smile, "we have heard that Are you having trouble in your family? Your wife, the Countess, seems to be..."

"I haven't heard anything," said Pierre nonchalantly. "And what have you heard?" "No, you know, people often tell nonsense. I've only heard it." "Then what did you hear?" "I heard," said the adjutant, still smiling, "that your wife, the countess, is going abroad. It's probably nonsense..." "Perhaps," said Pierre, looking around absently. "Who is this?" He pointed to a rosy-faced little old man in a clean blue wool coat, with a big snow-white beard and long eyebrows. "This one? He's a merchant, an innkeeper, Vereschagin. Perhaps you've heard about the notice?"

"Oh, so it's Vereschagin!" said Pierre, looking at the calm face of the old merchant, trying to read the traitor's expression on it. "He didn't do that. His son wrote the notice," said the adjutant. "That young man is facing a lawsuit. I think he will suffer." A little old man with a star and a German with a cross came up to the speakers. "To tell you the truth," said the adjutant, "it is a complicated case. At that time, two months ago, this notice appeared. It was sent to Count Rastopching. He ordered an investigation. Gavrilo Ivanitch made a search, and the notice had already passed sixty-three hands. He asked a man: 'Who did you get it from?' and replied: 'From someone.' He went to the man again. : 'Who did you get it from?' We have been questioned all the way to Wei Liexiajin...an uneducated businessman, a treasure in business!" The adjutant said with a smile. "He was asked, 'Who did you get it from?' We know who he got it from. He got it from the postmaster. But there seems to be an understanding between them. He said "I didn't get it from anyone, I wrote it myself." They threatened him and questioned him, and he insisted that he wrote it himself. So they reported to Count Rastopching. The count ordered him to send .'Where did you get this notice from?'—'I wrote it myself.' Well, you know the earl's temper!" The adjutant said with a triumphant smile, "he was furious, think about it: this is unreasonable , talking nonsense!..."

"Oh, the count wanted him to point out Kryucharev, I know!" said Pierre. "Absolutely not!" said the adjutant terrified. "Kryuchalev would have been guilty without this, so he was exiled. But the problem was that the count was furious. The count said: 'How can you write yourself?' He picked up the table The Hamburger Zeitung in the newspaper said again: 'Look. You didn't write it, you translated it, and it was badly translated, because you idiots don't even understand French.' What do you think the guy would say? He said "No, I didn't read any newspapers, I wrote it myself." The count said: "If so, then you are a traitor, I will hand you over to the court, you will be hanged, say, where did you get it?" came?' said he: 'I read nothing, I wrote it myself.' The case was thus dropped. The count sent his father again. He insisted on his story. He was brought before the court, probably Sentenced to hard labor. Now father comes to intercede for him. But he's a bad boy! Well, he's the son of a merchant, a playboy, a libertine, and he's heard speeches somewhere and thinks he can be lawless. Look, that's one Dude! His father keeps a tavern by the stone bridge, and in it hangs a big ikon with a scepter in one hand and a golden ball in the other; he took it home for days, God knows what What the hell! He's found a dirty painter..."