Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen

At one o'clock, the four carriages of the Rostov family, which had been loaded, stopped at the gate, and the carts transporting the wounded officers and soldiers drove out of the yard one after another. Sonia's attention was drawn to the carriage carrying Prince Andrei passing by the steps. She was arranging the countess's seat in the carriage with a maid, and the lady's tall and spacious carriage was parked at the gate. "Whose carriage is this?" Sonia asked, poking her head out of the window. "Don't you know, madam?" answered the maid. "The wounded prince: he is staying with us, and he is going with us."

"Who is it? What's your last name?" "Our former maiden, Prince Bolkonski!" replied the maid, sighing, "I heard he is dying." Sonia jumped out of the carriage and ran to the countess.The countess was already dressed in her traveling clothes, shawl and hat, and was pacing wearily up and down the drawing-room, waiting for the house servants to close the doors and sit down to say their prayers before departing.Natasha is not here. "Mamma," said Sonia, "Prince Andrew is here, wounded and dying. He is going with us." The countess opened her eyes wide in shock, and grabbed Sonia's hand and looked around.

"Where's Natasha?" she asked. For Sonya, and for the countess at the same time, the news had only one meaning for the first minute.They knew Natasha well, and their dread of what might happen to Natasha overwhelmed their sympathy for a man whom they also loved. "Natasha doesn't know yet; but he is going with us," said Sonia. "You mean he's dying?" Sonia nodded. The Countess embraced Sonia and wept. "God's providence!" thought she, feeling that in the situation now created an all-powerful hand was beginning to emerge from where men had previously been unable to see.

"Hey, mother, everything is ready. What are you talking about?..." Natasha ran in happily. "There is nothing to talk about," said the countess, "when you are ready, let's go." The countess bent down towards the handbag and buried her distressed face.Sonya hugged Natasha and kissed her. Natasha stared at her, wanting to know. "What's the matter with you? What's the matter?" "Nothing... nothing..." "Something bad for me? ... what?" Sensitive Natasha asked. Sonia sighed, but didn't answer anything.The count, Petya, Mrs. Shos, Mavra Kuzminishna, Vasilich, etc. all came into the drawing-room, locked the door, and sat down in silence, without looking at each other. for a few seconds.

The count was the first to stand up, sighed, and made the sign of the sign of the cross.Everyone followed suit.Then the count began to embrace Mavra Kuzminishna and Vasilich, who were staying in Moscow; they also seized the count's hand, kissed him on the shoulder, and he patted them on the back, saying: A few words of comfort that were unreal and kind.The countess went to the prayer room, and Sonia found her kneeling in front of the mutilated icon on the wall (the most precious family icon was to be taken away with her). On the steps and in the courtyard, the departing servants with daggers and sabers (given to them by Petya), trousers tucked into their boots, belts and belts tightly fastened, were taking leave of the remaining servants.

As often happens before departure, many things were pulled down and out of place; two attendants stood for a long time on either side of the open door and the lowered pedals, waiting for the countess to board; , the maids carried cushions and bundles and ran to several carriages (format carriages, large and small four-wheeled carriages, etc.), and ran back and forth on the road from home to carriages. "I've been forgetting this and that all my life!" said the countess, "You should know, I can't sit like this!" Dunyasha gritted her teeth and ran over to rearrange the seats without saying a word, with a look of grievance on her face.

"Oh, these people!" said the count, shaking his head. Yefim, the old coachman who specially drove for the countess, sat high on the driver's seat, dismissive of what happened behind him.With thirty years of experience, he knows that he will not be ordered soon: "Let's go!" Even if the order is given, he will be stopped twice, and someone will be sent to pick up the things he forgot, and he will be called after that One stop before the countess poked her head out the window and begged him in the name of Christ to be careful on the descent.He knew this situation, so he waited patiently for the development of the situation more patiently than his horse (especially the bay horse on the left shaft, called Xiongying, who was stamping and chewing the bit at the moment).

At last everyone was seated, the pedals were folded back into the compartment, the doors were closed, and the only thing waiting was the return of the person who had gone to fetch the casket.The countess poked her head out and said what had to be said.At this time, Yefim slowly took off the hat from his head and made the sign of the cross.The groom on the guide horse and all the servants also made the cross. "God bless!" Yefim put on his hat and said, "Drive!" The groom immediately started the carriage.The right-hand shaft horse tightened its grip, the undercarriage springs creaked, and the body shook.A squire jumped onto the front seat of the started carriage.The carriage jolted as it drove from the yard into the uneven road, and the rest of the carriages followed suit, and at last the convoy all drove out onto the street and headed forward.People in carriages and buggies made the sign of the sign of the cross to the church across the street.The families who stayed behind in Moscow lined the road on both sides of the carriage to see them off.

Natasha had never felt such a pleasant feeling today, sitting next to the countess, her eyes were fixed on the slowly moving back walls of the abandoned and terrified Moscow.She often poked her head out and looked forward or backward to see the convoy of wounded officers and soldiers walking in front.She caught sight of Prince Andrei's covered carriage, which was leading the way.She didn't know who was in it, but whenever she thought of her family's motorcade, she looked for the wagon with her eyes, and she knew it was at the front. In Kudrinno, convoys identical to those of the Rostovs from the streets of Nikitskaya, Presnya, and Podnovinsk joined together, and when they reached Garden Street, they had to The two teams advance side by side.

When turning the corner at the Sukharev Tower, Natasha watched the people on the bus and on foot curiously, and suddenly cried out in surprise. "My God! Mother, Sonia, look, it's him!" "Who? Who?" "Look, really, Bezukhov!" said Natasha, looking out of the window at a tall, bulky figure in a coachman's coat, who, from his gait and appearance, was clearly It was the gentleman in disguise, and he was coming under the arch of the Sukharev Tower with a yellow-faced little old man who didn't need a duffel coat. Really, it was Bezukhov, in a long coat, walking with a little old man. "Really," said Natasha, "look, look!"

"That's not it, this person is not him. How is it possible, nonsense!" "Mother," cried Natasha, "you can cut off my head, it's him. I'll make you believe it. Stop, stop," she called to the coachman; The carts and carriages drove up again in the street, and shouted to the Rostovs' carriage to keep on going and get out of the way. Indeed, although the convoy went further and further away, the Rostov family still saw Pierre or someone who looked like Pierre, wearing a coachman's coat, with his head bowed, his face serious, and a beardless young man. The old men walked side by side, the little old man looked like a servant.Seeing the faces looking at them from the window, he touched Pierre's elbow respectfully, pointed to the carriage and said something to him.For a long time Pierre could not understand what he said, for he was evidently lost in his own thoughts, and when at last he understood what he was saying, and looking in the direction he was pointing, he recognized Natasha, and immediately followed him. The first impression walked towards the carriage without hesitation.But after walking about ten steps, he seemed to remember something, so he stopped. Natasha poked her face out of the carriage, smiling tenderly. "Come on, Peter Kirilech! We recognize you! What a surprise!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What is the matter with you? Why are you doing this?" Pierre took the offered hand and kissed it clumsily as he walked (as the carriage moved on). "What's the matter with you, count?" asked the countess in a voice of surprise and sympathy. "What is it? Why? Please don't ask me," said Pierre, looking back at Natasha, who was drawn to him by the charm of her radiant eyes (which he could feel without looking at her). "What's the matter with you, you still want to stay in Moscow?" Pierre was silent for a moment. "Stay in Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, stay in Moscow. farewell. " "Oh, if only I were a man, I'll definitely stay with you. Oh, how wonderful it would be!" said Natasha. "Mother, allow me to stay, I want to stay." Pierre looked at Natasha blankly, and was about to speak, but the countess interrupted him. "Did you ever fight, we hear?" "Yes, yes," replied Pierre, "and tomorrow..." he began to talk.But Natasha interrupted him again: "What has happened to you, Count? You are not like yourself..." "Oh, don't ask, please don't ask me, I don't know anything myself. Tomorrow... oh no! Farewell, farewell," he repeated, "terrible times!" and he left the carriage and walked onto the sidewalk. Natasha leaned out of the car window for a long time, and smiled at him softly, mockingly and happily.