Chapter 20 Chapter Twenty

As usual, some close acquaintances dined at the Rostovs' on Sundays. Pierre, wishing to see them alone, came early. This year, Pierre had gained weight. If he hadn't been tall, with strong limbs, and not so strong enough to easily move his fat body, then he would have been ugly. Panting, muttering to himself, he walked up the stairs.His coachman had stopped asking if he wanted to wait for him.He knew that if the count were to be a guest at the Rostovs', he would stay until twelve o'clock.Said the Rostov servant, running merrily, and taking the cloak from him.He also used the theory of natural vitality to demonstrate the changes of human life and death, and believed that human death is like fire, and he took over the cane and hat.According to the custom of the club, Pierre left his cane and hat in the antechamber.

The first person he saw at the Rostovs' was Natasha.Even before he saw her, he heard her voice as he took off his cloak in the hall.She practiced sight-singing in the hall.He knew that she hadn't sung since she fell ill.So her singing surprised and delighted him.He gently opened the door, and saw Natasha wearing a snow-blue dress she used to wear to church, walking and singing in the room.When she opened the door, her back was turned to him, but when she turned suddenly and saw his fat surprised face, she blushed and walked quickly to him. "I want to try singing again," she said, "something to do at last," she added, as if apologetically.

"great." "I'm so glad you're here! I'm very happy today!" she said, with the liveliness that Pierre had long since lost in her. "You know, Nicalas got the St George's Cross, I'm so happy for him." "Of course I know, I sent the order. Well, I won't bother you anymore." He added, going to the living room. Natasha stopped him. "Count! What's the matter, have I sung badly?" she said blushing, but without lowering her eyes, she looked at Pierre questioningly. "Where...why? On the contrary...but why are you asking me that?"

"I don't know myself," replied Natasha quickly, "but I don't want to do anything you don't like. I trust you completely. You don't know how much you mean to me and how much you do for me." Things! . . . " She spoke quickly, not noticing that Pierre blushed as she said these words. "In that same order, I saw him, Bolkonsky (she said this, very quickly and in a low voice)—he's serving in Russia again. What do you think?" She went on Quickly and urgently, obviously afraid of being powerless, "Will he forgive me one day? He won't feel bad for me, will he? What do you think? What do you think?"

"I think..." Pierre said, "he has nothing to forgive you... If I were in his position..." Pierre's mind immediately replayed the scene of that day because of the memory. : He comforted her by saying that if he had not been him but the best and freest man in the world, he would have knelt down and proposed to her, and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love had filled his heart, and the same The words came to his lips, but she didn't give him time to say them. "You, you," she said, uttering the word you with joy, "you are something else. I don't know anyone who is kinder, more generous, and better than you, there can be no such People. Without you then, or even now without you, I don’t know what would have happened to me, because…” Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes; Walk up and down the hall.

At this moment Petya came running out of the drawing-room. Petya was now a handsome, rosy-cheeked boy of fifteen, with thick red lips like Natasha's.He was going to college, but lately he had secretly decided to join his classmate Obolensky as a hussar. It was for this that Peter approached his namesake. He asked Pierre to ask if the hussars wanted him. Pierre was walking up and down the drawing-room, not listening to Petya. Petya pulled his hand to draw his attention to herself. "What happens to me, Pyotr Kirilech, depends on you, for God's sake," said Petya. "Oh, yes, yes, your business. To be a hussar? I'll tell, I'll tell, to-day."

"Well, moncher, well, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. "The countess was at church at the Razumovskis' and heard a new prayer. The prayer is wonderful, she said. " -------- ①French: Dear. "Got it," replied Pierre. "Tomorrow, the emperor will... hold an extraordinary meeting of nobles. It is said that ten people will be drawn from every thousand people. By the way, congratulations." "Yes, yes, thank God. Any news from the army?" "Our army is retreating again. It is said that it has withdrawn to Smolensny." Pierre replied.

"My God, my God!" said the count. "Where's the manifesto?" "A Letter to the People! Ah, yes!" Pierre searched in his pockets, but could not find them.As he patted his pockets, he kissed the hand of the approaching countess, and looked around anxiously.Evidently waiting for Natasha, who had stopped singing, but did not come into the drawing-room. "Really, I don't know where I put it," he said. "Look at you, you are always forgetful," said the countess.Natasha came in with a soft and excited expression on her face and sat down, looking silently at Pierre.Pierre's gloomy countenance brightened as soon as she entered the room, and he glanced at her while he continued to search for the papers.

"Really, I'm going, I forgot at home. Must..." "It's too late to eat." "Ah, the coachman has gone too." But Sonia, who was looking for the papers in the hall, found them in Pierre's hat, which he had carefully tucked into the folds of the hat.Pierre wanted to read aloud. "Don't read it until after dinner," said the old count, apparently foreseeing great pleasure in this reading. During the meal, everyone drank champagne and wished the health of the new recipient of the St. George's Cross, Shinshin told the news in the city, about the blessing of the old Georgian princess, and about Metivier's disappearance from Moscow , some German was escorted to Rastoptchin, accused of being a "spies" (as Rastoptchin himself said), and Count Rastoptchin ordered the "spies" to be released. No, he told the people, it wasn't a "spies," but a bad old German.

"People are being arrested, people are being arrested," said the count. "I also told the countess that this is not the time to speak less French." "Have you heard?" said Shinshin, "Prince Golitsyn has also hired a Russian teacher - learn Russian - ilcommenceadevenirdanBgereuxdeparlerfranscaisdanslesruesn. -------- ①French: Speaking French on the street has become dangerous. "Well, Count Pyotr Kirilech, what about the militia, and you have to mount your horse?" said the old count to Pierre. Pierre remained silent and thoughtful throughout the meal.As if not understanding, he looked at the Count as he spoke to him.

"Yes, yes, to go to war," he said, "no! What kind of soldier am I!—and, besides, everything is so strange, so strange! Even I don't understand it myself. I don't know, I know nothing about military affairs." It’s irrelevant, but at present, no one can be responsible for themselves.” After dinner, the count sat peacefully in his chair, with a serious face, asking Sonia, who was good at reading aloud, to read the "Letter to the People". "A proclamation to the ancient capital of Moscow." "The enemy's forces have invaded Russia. He wants to destroy our dear fatherland," Sonia's shrill voice read vigorously.The earl, who closed his eyes, heard some places and let out a burst of sighs. Natasha sat upright, looking now at her father and now at Pierre with inquiring eyes. Pierre felt the gaze questioning him, but tried his best not to look back.The countess shook her head disapprovingly and indignantly at every majestic sentence of the manifesto.In all these words she saw only that the danger to her son would not end soon.Shen Shen pursed his lips and smiled mockingly, obviously ready to do so at the first opportunity.Laughed at Sonia's reading aloud, at what the Count would say.Even laughing at the "Report to the People", if there is no better excuse. When she read about the dangers that threatened Russia, about the hopes that the Emperor had for Moscow, especially for the nobles, Sonia's voice trembled, mainly because everyone listened to her carefully, and she read to the last few chapters. Sentence: "We must go without delay to the people of the capital, and to all parts of the country, to confer with and command our militias. They are blocking the advance of the enemy, and some are organizing against the enemy, wherever they appear , let the fate of the destruction that the enemy vainly tried to inflict on us fall on their own heads, and let Europe, liberated from slavery, glorify the name of Russia!" "Excellent!" exclaimed the Count, opening his wet eyes, and snorting intermittently, as if a bottle of concentrated acetate had been placed under his nose. "As long as the emperor gives the order, we will sacrifice everything." Before Shenshen could utter the prepared mockery of the count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her seat and ran towards her father. "How lovely! This papa!" she said, kissing him, and glancing at Pierre again, with her regained involuntary charm and liveliness. "What a female patriot!" Shen Shen said. "Not a patriot, but..." Natasha replied angrily, "everything is funny to you, but it's not a joke at all..." "It's no joke!" repeated the count. "We all come if he orders us to, . . . We're not those Germans . . . " "Have you noticed," said Pierre, "that it says, 'A consultation is required.'" "Whatever is done there..." At this time.Petya, who was not paying attention to anyone, went up to his father, blushed, and said in a voice that was sometimes thick and sometimes thin: "Now, Daddy, I say it decisively - and I say the same to Mama - I say decisively, please allow me to join the army, because I can't... that's what I'm going to say..." The countess rolled her eyes in surprise, clapped her hands, and said to her husband angrily. "That's why something happened!" she said. At this moment, however, the Count calmed down from his excitement. "Come on, come on," he said, "another fighter! Don't mess around! Learn." "It's not nonsense, papa. Obolensky Fedya is younger than me, and he's going too, and the main thing is, I can't learn anything now, when..." Petya stopped, blushing and sweating .He went on to say: "Just when the motherland is in danger." "Enough, enough, nonsense..." "Knowing that you said it yourself, we can sacrifice everything." "Petya, I tell you, shut up!" cried the count.Glancing at his wife, her face was pale, and her eyes were fixed on her youngest son. "And I'll tell you. That's what Pyotr Kirillovich is going to say..." "I tell you, it's nonsense, I want to be a soldier when I'm still young! Okay, okay, I'll tell you." The count grabbed the documents and walked out.Presumably he wanted to read it again before resting in his study. "What's the matter, Peter Kirinovitch, go and smoke..." Pierre was embarrassed and hesitant.Natasha's strangely excited eyes, gazing at him suspiciously and incessantly, had brought him into this state. "No, it seems I should go home..." "How come home, you don't want to stay with us until the evening... You don't come here very often these days, and, mine..." the count said kindly, pointing to Natasha, "I'm only happy when you're here... " "By the way, I forgot...I must go home...something..." Pierre said hastily. "Good-bye, then," said the count, and went out of the room. "Why are you going? Why are you disturbed? Why..." Natasha asked Pierre, looking defiantly into his eyes. "Because I love you!" he wanted to say, but didn't say it, blushing to the point of tears, and dropped his eyes. "Because I'd better not come here... because,... no, I'm just busy... "Because of what, no, tell me." Natasha said firmly, but suddenly fell silent again.They both looked at each other in surprise and embarrassment.He tried to smile, but could not; his smile expressed suffering, and he kissed her hand silently, and went out. Pierre secretly decided that he would not go to the Rostovs' house any more.