Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen

Rostov's son-in-law Berg is already a colonel with two medals of Vladimir and Anna, and his position is still the deputy chief of staff of the First Detachment of the Second Army. On September 1, he came to Moscow from the army. He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he noticed that everyone was taking leave of absence to go to Moscow to do something.He also thinks it is necessary to take time off work to do some personal chores around the house. Berg drove to his father-in-law's house in his handsome carriage, drawn by two well-fed yellow pussies (like some duke's horses).He glanced attentively at the vehicles in the yard, and then mounted the steps, when he produced a clean handkerchief and tied a knot.

He trotted gracefully through the hall into the drawing-room, embraced the count, kissed the hands of Natasha and Sonya, and asked eagerly about the health of his mother-in-law. "What about your health now? Well, tell me," said the count. "How is the army doing? Should we evacuate or fight?" "Only the Eternal God, Papa," said Berg, "can decide the fate of the country. The morale of the army is high, the chiefs, so to speak, and a council of war. What the result is, I don't know. But I will summarize it for you Well, Dad, in the battle on the twenty-sixth, the Russian troops," he corrected, "the heroism shown or displayed by the entire Russian army, and the bravery of the Russian army since ancient times cannot be described with proper words. To describe... I'll tell you, Papa (he said, patting his chest, like a general who was speaking before him, but a little earlier, when he said 'Russian Army' Chest), let me tell you frankly, not only do we officers not have to supervise battles, but we can also strive to maintain this, this... this, brave feat since ancient times," he said anxiously.

"General Barclay de Tolle is so desperate to take the lead, let me tell you. Our regiment is standing on the hillside. Just think about it!" So Berg remembered all the things he had heard during this time. Rumors——the story is over.Natasha looked at him intently, as if trying to find an answer to a question in his face, which made him embarrassed. "All in all, the heroism shown by the Russian soldiers is unimaginable and commendable!" Berg said, looking at Natasha, as if to invite a reward, and smiled at her focused gaze... 'Russia is not in Moscow, she is in the hearts of her children! 'Isn't it, Dad? said Berger.

At this moment, from the living room came the Countess with a weary and disaffected face.Berg rose hastily, kissed the countess's hand, inquired about her health, shook his head and sighed in sympathy, and stood beside her. "By the way, mother, to be honest, this is a difficult and sad time for all Russians. Why are you so disturbed? You still have time to go..." "I don't understand what people are doing," said the countess to her husband. "I was told just now that nothing is ready. But someone has to take care of it. Mitenka is so sorry. This kind of It's not over yet!"

The count wanted to talk, but evidently refrained.He got up from his chair and walked towards the door. Berg seemed about to blow his nose at this moment, took out his handkerchief, saw the knot, shook his head sadly and gravely, and thought for a moment. "Oh Papa, I have a big request for you," he said. "Huh?..." the count stopped and said. "I passed Yusupov's house just now," he said with a smile. "I know the housekeeper, and he came out and asked me if I wanted to buy something. You know, I went in out of curiosity and saw a small wardrobe and a dresser You know, Verushka wanted these two things and we had a quarrel about it. (Berg's tone brightened with interest in the furnishings when he talked about the dressing table and the wardrobe.) It's wonderful The dressing table can be pulled out, and it has an English mechanism, you know? Verochka has wanted it for a long time. I want to surprise her. I see so many farmers in the yard with you. Dial Give me a car, I'll pay you a fortune, and..."

The count frowned and cleared his throat. "Ask the countess, I don't care." "If it's difficult, don't," Berger said. "I just wanted to buy it for Verushka." "Well, go away, go to hell, go to hell, go to hell, go to hell!..." the old count shouted loudly, "I'm dizzy." Then he walked out of the room. The Countess wept. "It's a tough time, Mom, indeed!" Berg said. Natasha went out with her father, followed her a few steps as if thinking hard about something, and then ran down the steps into the yard. Petya was on the steps distributing arms to those who were leaving Moscow.Loaded vehicles are still parked in the yard.Two of them had been broken up, and an orderly was climbing onto the car with his officer in his arms.

"Do you know why?" Petya asked Natasha (Natasha understood that Petya meant the quarrel between father and mother.) She did not answer. "Because papa wanted to send the wagon to the wounded," said Petya. "Vassilyitch told me. I think..." "I think," Natasha almost cried suddenly, turning her angry face on Petya, "I think it's shameful, odious, . . . I don't know. Are we Germans? ..." Her throat was choked and trembling, and he was afraid that her fierceness would disappear in vain without any outlet, so he turned around again and quickly climbed up the steps.

Berg sat beside the countess, comforting his mother-in-law cheerfully and respectfully.The count was walking up and down the room with a pipe in his hand. At this moment, Natasha, her face changed with anger, rushed into the living room like a gust of wind, and walked quickly towards her mother. "It's disgrace! It's evil!" she cried. "You can't give orders like that." Berg and the countess looked at Natasha in puzzlement and horror.The count stayed at the window and listened. "Mum, this can't work, look at the situation in the yard!" she said loudly, "They want to stay!"..."

"What's the matter with you? Who are they? What do you want?" "Wounded soldiers, that's them! It's not okay, Mommy; it's too bad... No, Mommy, dear, it's not like that, please forgive me, Mommy... Dear, those who have to be transported What's the use of things to us, you just have to look in the yard... Mommy!... This can't be done!..." The count stood by the window and listened to Natasha without turning his face.He snorted suddenly and brought his face close to the window. The countess looked at her daughter, saw her face ashamed of her mother, saw her agitation, understood why her husband did not even look at her now, and looked around in confusion.

"Oh, you can do whatever you want! I'm in the way!" she said, before throwing in the towel. "Mummy, honey, please forgive me." The countess pushed her daughter away and walked towards the count. "Moncher, you take care of things, what... I don't know about this," she said, eyes down regretfully. "The chicken... the chicken teaches the hen..." Through tears of happiness, the count said these words, and embraced his wife, who happily hid her shamed face in her husband's arms. "Dad, Mommy! Can I take care of it? Can I?" Natasha asked.

"We'll just take what's most important..." she said. The Count nodded to her approvingly, and Natasha ran across the living room, across the vestibule, and down the steps into the courtyard as if playing a game of catch. People gathered around Natasha, unable to believe the strange order she conveyed, until the count himself came out to confirm the order in the name of his wife, that is, to allocate vehicles to the wounded, and to move the boxes back to the storage room. They just believe it.Having figured out the order, the people happily hastily took up this new task.Now, not only did the servants not find it strange, on the contrary, they felt that it had to be so; just as a quarter of an hour ago, not only did no one find it strange to leave the wounded to take away things, but they felt that it was right. All the domestic slaves, as if wanting to make up for their failure to do so just now, quickly took up the new task of resettling the wounded officers and soldiers.The wounded dragged their legs out of their rooms and surrounded the cart, their pale faces showing joy.News spread that there were still vehicles in the neighboring houses, so the wounded who lived in other houses also began to come to the Rostov's yard.Many of the wounded begged to sit on things without unloading them.However, the situation that has begun to untie the rope can no longer be closed.Leave half or leave all the same.The yard was strewn with boxes of weapons, bronze paintings, and mirrors which had been painstakingly packed last night; Cars came out one after another. "Four more people can be taken," said the butler. "I'll give up my car too, or where should I put them?" "Give them also the cart in which I brought my clothes," said the countess. "Dunyasha will ride with me." They also freed up the clothes truck to pick up the wounded from the third and fourth houses next door.All the house slaves and servants worked hard.Natasha was filled with an excitement and a happy gaiety which she had not seen for a long time. "Where will it be tied up?" asked the servant, putting the box on the narrow running board at the back of the carriage. "At least one more box must be kept." "What does it hold?" Natasha asked. "The count's books." "Put it down. Vasilich is here to pick it up. There's no need for this." The buggy was so full that it was difficult to know where Pyotr Ilyitch could sit. "He's in the front seat. You're in the front seat, Petya?" cried Natasha. Sonya was busy, too; but in the opposite direction from Natasha's.She took back to the house what she did not take, and registered them as the countess wished, and took as much as she could.