Chapter 3 third chapter

On March 3rd a commotion was heard in the halls of the English Club, members and guests in uniform, tailcoats, some in girdles and powdered wigs, like a flock migrating in the spring Seasonal bees shuttle back and forth like bees, sitting or standing for a while, gathering or dispersing for a while.Servants with powdered wigs, all in uniform, stockings, and low leather shoes, stood by each door, watching every movement of the guests and members of the club with nervous attention in order to come forward to serve them.Most of the attendees are senior and respectable people, they all have broad confident faces, thick fingers, steady steps, and clear voices.This class of visitors and members of the club sat in some of the seats they were used to, and they met in certain groups where they were accustomed to meet.A small number of those present were composed of occasional guests—mainly young people, among whom were Denisov, Rostov, and Dolokhov, who in turn was Semyonov. Officer of the Maverick Corps.On the faces of young people, especially young soldiers, there is an expression of contempt and respect for the elderly. It seems to be telling the old people: "We are willing to respect you, but you must remember that the future belongs to us after all."

Nesvitski is an old member of the club and he also stays in this place.Pierre had grown his hair long, removed his spectacles, and dressed stylishly as his wife had ordered, but he paced up and down the halls with a melancholy and despondent look.He was like that everywhere, surrounded by those who admired his wealth, and he assumed his usual air of dominance, treating them with casual contempt. In terms of age, he should be with young people, but in terms of personal wealth and personal relationships, he is a member of several groups of distinguished guests, so he often comes and goes between this group and that group.The elders of the most prestigious guests became the central figures of these groups, and even strangers approached them respectfully in order to hear the speeches of eminent persons.Several larger groups were placed around Count Rastopchin, Valuev and Naryshkin.Rastoptchin speaks of Russian officers and soldiers trampled by fleeing Austrians, routed and forced to cut their way through the fleeing crowd with bayonets.

Valuev spoke confidentially that Uvarov had been sent by Petersburg to find out the opinion of the Muscovites on the Battle of Austerlitz. Naryshkin mentioned in the third group that Suvorov screamed like a rooster at a meeting of the Austrian Military Council in response to stupid things said by the Austrian generals.At this moment Shinshin was standing here, wanting to be joking, and said that it seemed that Kutuzov could not learn Suvorov's simple technique of squealing like a rooster; but the old people looked at him seriously. Looking at this jester, he felt that it would be unseemly to talk about Kutuzov here today.

Count Ilya Andreich Rostov was anxious, and in soft-soled boots he walked slowly from the dining room into the drawing-room and back again, with a flustered look, and the dignitaries he knew all People of high status and low status greeted each other equally, and sometimes searched for the well-proportioned and handsome son with their eyes, and happily rested their eyes on him to wink at him.Young Rostov and Dolokhov stood at the window, whom he had met not long ago and valued their friendship.The old count came up to them and shook Dolokhov's hand. "Come here, you've made friends with my great boy... There you fought side by side and made heroic feats together... Ah! Vasily Ignadych..., hello, old fellow," he said Turning his face to the little old man who was passing by, he said, but before he finished exchanging greetings, everything around him started to move, and a servant came running with a frightened expression on his face, and he said: "The distinguished guest has arrived!"

The bell rang, and several leaders rushed forward, and the guests scattered in various rooms, like rye being blown away with a wooden spade, gathered in a pile and stopped by the door of the ballroom in front of the large living room. Bagration appeared at the door of the anteroom, without his military cap and sword, which, according to the custom of the club, he had deposited with the guard.He did not wear a lambskin cap, nor did he have a riding crop over his shoulder, as Rostov had seen him on the eve of the Battle of Austerlitz, but a tight new military uniform with Russian and foreign accents. He wears the Order of St. George's Gold Star on his left breast.It appears that he had cut his hair and shaved his sideburns before the luncheon, which made his face ugly.There was a certain childish joy in his face, which, together with his valiant and determined features, even gave the impression of being somewhat comical.Bekreshov and Fyodor Petrovich Uvarov, who were traveling with him, stopped at the door, wishing to have his chief guest go ahead of them.Bagration was flustered, he did not want to accept their respect, he stopped at the door, and at last Bagration went to the front.He walked on the parquet floor of the anteroom, feeling shy and inflexible, not knowing where to put his hands.When he walked along the plowed wheat fields in front of the Kursk regiment at the battle of Schen Graben under the hail of bullets, he felt more used to it and lighter.Several key leaders greeted him at the first door, and said a few words of welcome to him. Before he could answer, they seemed to attract his attention, surrounded him, and led him into the living room.The members and guests of the club were closing the door of the drawing-room, pushing and jostling each other, trying to get a good look at Bagration, the strange beast, over their shoulders.Count Ilya Andreitch, who was full of energy, said with a smile: "My dear, get out of the way, out of the way, out of the way!" pushing the crowd aside, led the guests into the drawing room, and invited them to sit on the central sofa. take a seat.Celebrities, members of the most respected clubs, surrounded themselves again with the guests.Count Ilya Andreitch pushed his way through the crowd again, and came out of the drawing room, and suddenly he came with another councilor, holding a large silver tray in his hands, and brought it to Prince Bagration. .On a silver platter lay a poem compiled and printed in honor of the hero.Bagration looked at the silver platter, and looked here and there frantically, as if seeking help.But the eyes of the crowd begged him to obey them.Bagration felt that he was under the control of everyone, so he firmly took the silver plate in his hand, and looked at the count who brought the silver plate with angry and reproachful eyes.Someone who took the silver plate from Bagration's hand flatteringly (otherwise it seemed that he would have carried it all the way through the evening and brought it to the table) called his attention to the song poetry. "Here, let me read it," Bagration seemed to say, and fixing his weary eyes on a piece of paper, he began to read with seriousness and feigned concentration.But the author of the poem took the poem in his hands and began to recite it himself.Prince Bagration listened with bowed head.

Praise the age of Alexander! Defend our Emperor Titus. May he be a majestic leader and a benevolent man, Life of the motherland, Caesar of the battlefield! lucky napoleon tell him to taste Bagration's fist, Don't dare to make things difficult for the Russians... But he hadn't finished reading the poem when the loud butler announced: "The dishes are ready!" The door opened, and Polonez danced in the dining room: "Thunderbolt of victory, brave Russia People rejoice to their heart's content," Count Ilya Andreitch looked angrily at the author who continued to read the psalm, and bowed to Bagration.Everyone stood up, feeling that the reception was always more important than poetry, so Bagration stood in front of the crowd and went to the table again.The crowd asked Bagration to sit in the chief seat between two guests named Alexander, Bekreshov and Naryshkin; the same name as the king, and its meaning was actually related to the holy taboo, and the three hundred people were divided according to their rank and position. When sitting in a restaurant, the higher the position among the guests, the closer to the honored guests, just like water flows to the deep and low, it is a matter of course.

Before the banquet, Count Ilya Andreitch introduced his son to the prince.Bagration, having recognized him, said a few incoherent and inappropriate words as he said today.Count Ilya Andreitch, while Bagration was talking to his son, cast his delighted and reserved eyes round them all. Nikolai Rostov was sitting almost in the middle of the table with Denisov and a new acquaintance, Dolokhov.Pierre and Prince Nesvitsky sat side by side across from them.Count Ilya Andreitch sat opposite Bagration with several other members of the leadership, and thus displayed Moscow hospitality and cordial hospitality to the prince.

His labor was not in vain.The dishes he prepared, both vegetarian and meat dishes, were delicious and very desirable, but he still couldn't be very calm before the reception was over.From time to time, he winked at the waiter in the restaurant and ordered the servants softly. He waited for every dish he was familiar with with excitement.All dishes are beautiful and delicious.When the second course was brought out, a platter of large sturgeon, Ilya Andreitch blushed with joy and embarrassment at the sight of the sturgeon, and the servants began to pop the corks and pour champagne.Count Ilya Andreitch exchanged glances with several other directors, "There are still many glasses to drink, and it should start!" He said something softly, raised his goblet, and stood up.Everyone was silent, waiting for him to speak.

"Long and healthy life to the King!" he cried, and at that moment his kind eyes were moistened with tears of ecstasy and ecstasy.At this time, the music was played: "The Thunderbolt of Victory".Everyone rose from their seats and shouted "Hurrah!" Bagration shouted "Hurrah!" just as he had shouted on the field of Shen Graben. From the voices of three hundred guests came the young Rostov enthusiastic cheers.He almost cried. "Long and good health to the king!" he cried aloud. "Ulla!" He drank a glass of wine in one gulp, throwing the glass on the floor.Many followed his example.A loud cheer continued for a long time.As soon as the shouting died down, the servants picked up the broken cups, and all took their seats, smiling at their own cheers, and chatting among themselves.Count Ilya Andreitch stood up again and glanced at the note lying beside his plate, in which he wished the health of Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration, the hero of our last battle. Raising his glass, the earl's blue eyes were moistened with tears again.Three hundred guests were again chanting "Hurrah!" and what could be heard now was not music but a chorus of singers, composed by Pavel Ivanovich Kutuzov.

Russians are unstoppable, Courage is the guarantee of victory, And we have countless Bagrations, All enemies will fall at our feet. ... As soon as the singers had finished singing, the people went on to toast again and again, while Count Ilya Andreitch was more and more moved, more and more wine bottles were broken, and the cheers grew louder. louder.For the health of Bekreshov, Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, for the health of the directors, for the health of the stewards, for the club To the health of all the members, to the health of all the guests at the club, and, finally, to the health of Count Ilya Andreitch, the organizer of the party, alone.While toasting, the count took out his handkerchief, covered his face, and burst into tears.