Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen

On Saturday, August 31, everything seemed to have turned upside down in the Rostovs' house.The doors of all the rooms were left open, all the furniture had been taken out or moved, mirrors and picture frames had been taken down.There were boxes in the room, with hay, wrapping paper, and rope strewn about.Peasants and house slaves were moving, heavy on the parquet floor, and the yard was full of peasants' carts, some piled high and tied up, some still empty. Inside and outside the house, there was a lot of voices and footsteps. The servants and the farmers who came with the cart were busy with their own work, echoing each other.The count went out early in the morning and disappeared.The countess, suffering from a headache from the bustle and noise, was lying in the new sitting-room with a vinegar-soaked cloth wrapped around her head.Petya was not at home (he went to see his companion, intending to go with him from the militia to the active service).Sonia looked at packing glass and china in the hall.Natasha sat on the floor of her messy room, surrounded by piles of clothes, belts and scarves, holding in her hand the old ball gown (now outdated) she wore for the first Petersburg ball, staring blankly stared at the floor.

Natasha felt ashamed that everyone else was so busy and she didn't do anything, so she tried to find something to do several times in the morning; Be good at doing anything, because it's not for the sake of going all out.She stood and looked at Sonia, who was squatting and bandaging the porcelain, and wanted to help, but immediately put aside the work here and went back to her room to pack the clothes.At first, she was very happy to distribute the clothes and belts to the maids, but after a while, she felt dull again when she had to pack up the rest. "Dunyasha, will you clean up, my dear? Will you?"

When Dunyasha willingly agreed to everything, Natasha sat down on the floor and picked up the old ball gown again and fell into thought, but not on the things that should now occupy her mind.The voices of the maids in the adjoining maid's room, and their hasty footsteps from the room towards the back door, aroused her from her meditations.Natasha stood up and looked out the window.There was a long line of wounded vehicles parked in the street. Servants and maids, stewards and wet nurses, cooks and grooms, stewardesses, and cooks stood at the gates to watch the wounded. Natasha covered her hair with a white handkerchief, and went out of the door holding the corner of the handkerchief with both hands.

The old housekeeper, Mavra Kuzminishna, left the crowd gathered at the door, approached a cart covered with bush mats, and talked to a young pale officer lying in it.Natasha moved a few steps, stopped timidly, still holding the handkerchief with both hands, and asked the housekeeper to talk. "Why, then, do you have no relatives or friends in Moscow?" said Mavra Kuzminishna. "You'd better find a quieter house . "I don't know if that's true," the officer said weakly. "That's the chief... ask him." He pointed to a fat major who was walking back along a row of carts.

Natasha glanced at the wounded officer's face in shock, and immediately walked towards the major. "Can you let your wounded soldier live with us?" she asked. The major smiled and raised his hand to the brim of his hat. "Who would you like to live in your house, miss?" he asked with a narrowed eye and a smile. Natasha repeated it calmly, although her hand was still holding the corner of the handkerchief, but her face and all her demeanor were serious, so the major restrained his smile, and first thought about it, as if discussing it with himself. Do the possibility, then answered her in the affirmative.

"Oh, okay, why not, yes." He said. Natasha nodded slightly, and hurried back to Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing beside the lying officer, talking lovingly to him. "Yes, he said, yes!" Natasha whispered. The officer's wagon turned into the yard of the Rostovs' house, and dozens of wagons loaded with wounded soldiers, at the invitation of the citizens, drove into the courtyards and porches of Povar Street.Natasha clearly appreciated this out-of-the-ordinary interaction with strangers.Together with Mavra Kuzvinishna, she tried to get as many wounded soldiers as possible into her yard.

"I still have to tell my father about it," said Mavra Kuzminishna. "It's okay, it's okay, it's the same anyway! Let's move to the living room to live for a day. Just give them half of it." "Hey, Miss, I see what you think! Even if you live in the wing room, the servant's room and the nanny's room, you have to ask." "Hey, I'll ask." Natasha ran home and tiptoed into the half-open living room door, which smelled of vinegar and Hoffmann's potion. "Are you asleep, Mom." "Oh, what a sleep!" said the countess, awakened from a doze.

"Mother, dear," said Natasha, knelt down, and brought her face close to her mother's. "I'm sorry, I beg your pardon, I woke you up, I will never do this again. Mavra Kuzminishna called me, the wounded have arrived, they are all officers, will you promise? They have no place Stay; I know you will agree..." She said in a hurry. "What officer? Who has been brought here? I have no idea," said the countess. Natasha laughed, and the countess smiled feebly. "I know you will agree... Then, I will talk." Natasha kissed her mother, got up and walked towards the door.

In the hall, she meets her father, who brings back bad news. "We're sitting still!" said the Count with regret. "The club is closed, and the police are gone." "Father, I have invited the wounded to my house, is that all right?" Natasha said to him. "Of course, fine." The flustered earl responded casually. "That's not the problem. I'm asking everyone to ignore the unimportant things, but to help pack up and leave tomorrow, go..." Then, the earl issued the same order to the housekeeper and servants. Petya, who had only come home at lunchtime, told her news.

He said that today the people are all receiving weapons in the Kremlin. Although Count Rastoptchin said in the circular that he will issue an order within two or three days, arrangements have probably been made to order all the people to take weapons and go to the three mountains tomorrow. , a big battle is going to be fought there. While Petya was speaking, the countess looked timidly at the cheerful, beaming face of her son.She knew that if she said that she begged Petya not to go to this campaign (she knew he was happy for the coming campaign), then he would talk about manhood, honor, country, and so on,— —Speaking of these meaningless, men's obstinate and irresistible things will make things worse, so she hopes to arrange to go before the war, and she will take Petya with her as a protector and protector, temporarily. She said nothing to Petya, but after dinner she sent for the count, and begged him tearfully to drive her away as soon as possible, and that very evening, if possible.The countess, who had never shown the slightest fear, now told her husband with a woman's motherly slyness that she would die of fright if they did not drive away tonight.No need to pretend, she was afraid of everything now.