Chapter 29 Chapter Twenty Nine

When the French officer entered the room with Pierre, Pierre thought it necessary to convince the captain again that he was not French and wanted to leave, but the French officer would not even listen.He was so courteous, affectionate, kind, and sincerely grateful for the life-saving offer that Pierre, ashamed to refuse, sat down with him in the hall, the first room they entered.Regarding Pierre's denial that he was French, the captain shrugged his shoulders, obviously not understanding why he should refuse the nickname, but said that although he insisted on calling himself a Russian, that was the only way to go, but he still would never do so. Forget his life-saving grace.

If this person had a little talent for understanding others, he would have guessed Pierre's mood, and Pierre would have left him; Pierre. "Francaisouprincerus seincognito," he said, looking at Pierre's shirt, though dirty but delicate, and at the ring on his finger. , Jevous dois lavie et jevous of fremon amittie. Unfrancaisn'oubliejamaisniuneinsulteniunservice． Jevous of fremon amitie. Jenevousdisqueca． "② The voice of this officer, the expression on his face, his gestures, etc., were so kind and noble (as far as the French are concerned) that Pierre could not help smiling at him. The Latin name for West Germany. , held the hand that was extended.

"Capitaine Ramballedu13-meleger, decorepourl'affairedusept." ③ He introduced himself, with a smile of immense satisfaction on his face, which made his lips pucker under his mustache. "Voudrezvousbiendireapresentaquij'ail'honneurdeparleraussiagreablementaulieuderesteral'am-bulanceaveclaballecefoudanslecorps."④ -------- ①It doesn't matter if it's French, or it doesn't matter if it's a pseudonymous Russian duke. ②You saved my life, I have to thank you, and I dedicate my friendship to you.The French forget neither humiliation nor favor.I offer my friendship.Besides, don't say anything more.

③Captain Lamba, Thirteenth Light Cavalry Regiment, on September 7th, was awarded the Knight of the Honorary Legion for his meritorious service. ④Would you please tell me now who I am having the pleasure of talking to rather than going to the dressing station with a madman's bullet on me. Pierre replied that he could not pronounce his name, and, while bashfully trying to invent one, began to explain why he could not, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him. "Degra Ace," he said. "Je comprends vosraisons, voustes offi-cier...officier superieur, peut-etre. Vousavez porteles armes contrenous.—Cen'est pas monaffaire. Jevous doislavie. Celamesuffit. Jesuist out avous. Vousetes gentil homme." He added inquiringly.Pierre bowed his head.

"Votrenomdebapteme, s'ilvouspalAit? Jenedemandepasdavantage. M-rPierre, ditesvous...Parfait. C'esttoutcequejedesiresavoir."② -------- ①Oh, that's enough.I understand you, you are an officer... maybe a command officer.You have fought us. — It's none of my business.I owe my life to you.I am very satisfied and would like to serve you. Are you an aristocrat? -------- ②What is your first and last name?I don't ask anything else.You say you are Monsieur Pierre?great.That's all I need to know. When the mutton, fried eggs, samovar, vodka, and wine from the cellars of the Russians, which the French army brought with them, were brought in, Lambert invited Pierre to lunch with him, and he himself was impatient, like a healthy and hungry man. Like a man, he started to eat greedily, chewing quickly with his powerful teeth, smacking his lips continuously, saying: excellent, exquis! ①His face was flushed with sweat.Pierre was also hungry, so he happily ate with him.Mabe Morel brought a small pot of hot water, and put a bottle of claret in it to warm.In addition, he brought a bottle of kvass, which he had taken from the kitchen to taste.This drink has long been known to the French and has given it a name.

-------- ①Excellent, wonderful! They called kvass limonade decochon (pig lemon juice), and Morel admired this limonade decochon he found in the kitchen.However, since the captain had already obtained wine when he moved through Moscow, he gave the kvass to Morel and concentrated on the bottle of claret.He poured wine for himself and Pierre, wrapping the neck of the bottle with a napkin.The relief of hunger, combined with the wine, enlivened the captain, so that he talked incessantly during the meal. "Oui, moncherm-rPierre, jevousdoisunefierechandelledem'avoirsauve...decetenrage...J'enaiassez, voyez-vous, deballesdanslecorps. Envoilaune, (he points to the waist) a WagrametdedeuxaSmolensk," he pointed to the scar on his cheek. “Etcettejambe，commevousvoyez，quineveutpasmarcher．C'estalagrandebatailledu7alaMoskowaquej'airecuca．SacreDieu，c'etaitbeau！Ilfallaitvoirca，c'etaitundelugedefeu．Vousnousaveztailleunerudebesogne；vouspouvezvousenvanter，nomd'unpetitbonBhomme．Et，maparole，malgrelatoux，quej'yaigagne，jeseraispretarecommencer．Jeplainsceuxquin'ontpasvuca．” ①

-------- ①Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I would like to offer you a splendid candle in thanks for saving me from a madman.Lo and behold, quite a few bullets were taken out of me.One in Vagram (pointing to the waist), the other in Smolensk (pointing to the scar on the cheek).And this leg, you see, it doesn't want power.This is the wound he sustained during the Battle of Moscow on September 7th. (The French call the Battle of Borodino the Battle of Moscow, September 7th refers to the Western calendar, and according to the Russian calendar it is August 26th.) Oh!That was spectacular!Worth seeing, it was a sea of ​​fire.You have given us a difficult problem, which is something to boast about.To be honest, even with this trump card (he pointed to the Cross), I'd rather start all over again.It's a pity for those who didn't see this scene.

"J'yaiete," said Pierre. "Bah, vraiment! Ehbien, tantmieux," continued the Frenchman. “Vousetesdefiersennemis，toutdememe．Lagranderedouteaetetenace，nomd'unepipe．EtvousnousI'avezfaitcraAnementpayer．J'ysuisallefoistrois，telquevousmevoyez．Troisfoisnousetionssurlescanonsettroisfoisonnousaculbuteetcommedescapucinsdecartes．Oh！c'etaitbeau，M—rPierre．Vosgrenadiersontetesuperbes，tonnerredeDieu．Jelesaivusixfoisdesuiteserrerlesrangs，etmarchercommeaunerevue．Iesbeauxhommes！NotreroideNaplesquis'yconnaitacrie：bra－vo Ah, Ah! sold at commenousautres!" he said after a moment's silence. "Tantmieux, tantmieux, m-rPierre. Terriblesenbataille... galants..." He blinked with a smile, "aveclesbelles, voilalesfrancais, m-rPierre, n'estcepas?"

-------- ①I was there.Oh, really?That's even better.You are brave enemies and must be acknowledged.You've done a good job of keeping that huge multi-horned fort, hell.And forced us to pay a high price.I made it three times, you know, I kid you not.Three times we got near the artillery emplacements, and three times we were driven back like paper dolls.Your grenadiers are great, really.I saw them assemble six times, marching as if they were going on a parade.Wonderful people!Our king of Naples...and that's his thing too... applaud them: "Hullo!" Ha, ha!You are also our brother in the ranks!That's better, that's better, Monsieur Pierre.Terrible in battle and amorous to beautiful women.This is the French, Monsieur Pierre.Is it this way?

The captain was so cheerful and innocent that Pierre almost winked when he looked at him.It was probably the word "passionate" that reminded the captain of the situation in Moscow: "A propos, dites donc, est—cevraique toutes les femmesont quittee Moscou? Unedro Aled'idee! Qu'avaient—ellesacrain Bdre?" "Est—cequeles dames francaises nequit B teraient pas Parissiles Russes yentraient?" said Pierre. -------- ①By the way, tell me, have the women really left Moscow?Strange idea, what are they afraid of?If the Russians drive into Paris, don't the French women leave?

"Ah, ah, ah!..." the Frenchman laughed nervously and patted Pierre on the shoulder. "Ah! elle est forte celle—la," he went on. "Paris?...Mais Paris...Paris..." "Paris, Lacapitaledumonde..." Pierre finished for him. -------- ① Hahaha! ...I'm joking.Paris?But Paris...Paris...Paris is the capital of the world... The captain looked at Pierre.He had the habit of pausing between conversations to look at his interlocutors with a smile and tender eyes. "Eh, bien, sivousnem'aiezpasditquevousetesRusse, j'auraipariiequevousetesParisien. Vousavezcejenesaisquoi, ce...①" After saying these compliments, he looked at the other party silently. -------- ①If you didn't tell me you were Russian, I'd bet you were Parisian.you have... "J'aietea Paris, j'yaipassedes annees," Pierre said. "Ohcasevoitbien. Paris!... UnhommequineconnaitpasParis, estunsauvage. UnParisien, casesentadeuxlieux. Pairs, c'est Talma, la Duscheonis, Potier, la Sorbornn, lesboulevards." ① Finding that this conclusion is not as strong as what he just said, he hastened to add: "Iln'yaqu' un Paris aumonde．Vousavezetea Paris -------- ①Ah, that's obvious, Paris! …He who does not know Paris is a savage.A Parisian, you recognize it two miles away, Paris, this is Thalmas, Duchenoy, Poitiers, Saubernas, the boulevards.I have been to Paris and lived there for many years. et vouse tes reste Russe. Ehbien, jene vousenes time pasmoins. "① Pierre drank the wine, and for some days had been brooding in solitude, and he could not help being glad now to talk to this cheerful and kind man. -------- ① There is only one Paris in the world.You have been to Paris, but you are still a Russian.That's okay, and I won't lower my respect for you. “Pourenreveniravosdames，onlesditbienbelles．Quellefichueideed'allers'enterrerdanslessteppes，quandl'armeefrancaiseestaMoscou．Quellechanceellesontmanquecelles—la．Vosmoujiksc'estautrechose，maisvousautresgenscivilisesvousdevrieznousconnalAtremieuxqueca．NousavonsprisVienne，Berlin，Madrid，Naples，Rome，Varsovie，touteslescapitalesdumonde…Onnouscraint，maisonnousaime．NoussommesbonsaconnalAtre．Etpuisl'emBpereur．” ①He began to chatter, but Pierre interrupted him. -------- ①Talk about your ladies, I hear they are beautiful.Where did the stupid idea come from, to hide in the steppes when the French army came to Moscow.They missed a wonderful opportunity.You farmers, I understand, but you—educated people—should know us better.We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw, all the cities of the world.They fear us, but they also love us.There is no harm in associating with us.Besides, the emperor... "L'empereur," repeated Pierre, his face suddenly becoming sad and embarrassed. "Est—cequel'empereur..." ① "L'empreur? C'estlagenerosite, laclemence, lajustice, l'ordre, legenie, voilal'empereur! C'estmoi Ramballequivousledit. Telquevousmevoyez, j'etaissonenemiilyaencorehuitans. cethomme．Ilm'aempoigne．Jen'aipaspuresisterauspectacledegrandeuretdegloiredontilcouvraitlaFrance．Quandj'aicompriscequ'ilvoulait，quandj'aivuqu'ilnousfaisaitunelitieredelauriers，voyezvous，jemesuisdit：voilaunsouveran，etjemesuisdornneealui．Ehvoila！Oh，oui，moncher，c'estleplusgrandhommedessieclespassesetaVenir．”② "Est—ila Moscou?" Pierre said, stammering and reprehensible. -------- ①Emperor... how about the emperor... ②Emperor?This is the embodiment of generosity, benevolence, justice, order, genius - all this is the emperor!This is what I Ramba said.You see me like this now, but eight years ago I was against him.My father was an earl in exile.But the emperor defeated me and made me submit to him.His greatness and glory overshadow France, and I cannot stand before him.When I understood his thoughts and saw that he was leading us to a glorious future, I said to myself: This is His Majesty, and I will devote myself to him.that's it!Oh, yes, my dear, it is greatness as never before or since. ③He is in Moscow? The Frenchman looked at Pierre's guilty expression and smiled. "Non, ilferasonentreedemain." ① he said, and continued to tell his story. -------- ①No, he will enter the city tomorrow. Their conversation was interrupted by some voices at the gate and by Morrel entering the room to report to the captain that the Württemberg hussars were coming to put the horses in the yard, which was already closed. The captain's horses were stationed.The trouble was chiefly that the hussars did not understand the language spoken to them. The captain ordered the sergeant of the hussars to come to him, and asked them severely which regiment they belonged to, who the commander was, and what background they had for daring to occupy a house that was already occupied.For the first two questions, the German soldier who did not understand French answered his regiment and the commander; but for the last question, he did not understand, but replied in German with some incomplete French words, he was The No. 1 house of the Corps, the officer ordered him to occupy all the houses in this area.Pierre, who knew German, translated the words of the German soldiers to the captain and translated the captain's answers into German for the hussars.After the German soldiers understood what was said to him, they obeyed and took away their own men.The captain walked out of the house, stood on the steps and gave several orders loudly. When he returned to the house, Pierre was still sitting where he had been, with his head in his hands.His face was pained.At this moment, he was indeed in pain.When the captain went out and Pierre was left alone, he suddenly came to himself and realized his position.It was not the occupation of Moscow, nor the presence of the lucky victors who reigned supreme and sheltered him, that tormented him, though it weighed heavily on him, at this moment.What pains him is the awareness of his own weakness.A few glasses of wine, and a conversation with this kind man, destroyed the accumulated melancholy which was necessary for him to carry out his plan, and which he had been in for the last few days.Pistols, daggers, and peasant clothes were ready for Napoleon to enter the city the next day.Pierre still considered it useful and worthwhile to kill the villain, but now he felt that he could not do it.Why? ——He didn't know, but he seemed to have a premonition that he couldn't realize his plan.He rebelled against his feeble consciousness, but felt vaguely that he could not overcome it, and that his previous melancholy of revenge, murder, and self-sacrifice had drifted away like dust after the first Frenchman he had come into contact with. The captain limped a little and went into the house whistling. The chatter of the French officer, who had previously been able to amuse Pierre, now annoyed him with the opposite effect.Pierre was insulted by everything he whistled, his gait, his gestures, and the way he wiped his beard. "I'll go away now and never say a word to him again," thought Pierre.So he thought, while still sitting where he was.What a strange feeling of weakness held him in his seat: he wanted to get up and walk away, but couldn't. The Captain, on the contrary, seemed extremely pleased.He walked up and down the house twice.His eyes sparkled, his beard twitched slightly, and he seemed to be smiling to himself at some interesting thought. "Charmant," he said suddenly, "le colonel deces Wurtem-bourgeois! C'estun Allemand; maisbravegarcon, s'ilenfut. Maisallemand." He sat down opposite Pierre. -------- ① Charming, the colonel of these Württemberg soldiers.He was German, but handsome nonetheless.However, he is German. "Aprops, voussavez doncl'allemand, vous? "① Pierre looked at him silently. "Commentditesvousasileenallemand?" "Asile?" repeated Pierre. "Asileen allemand— Unterkunft． "③ "Commentdites—vous?" ④The captain asked quickly again in doubt. "Unterkunft," repeated Pierre. "Onterkoff," said the captain, looking at Pierre for a few seconds with smiling eyes. "Lesallemandssontdefieresbetes. N'estcepas, m-rPierre?"⑤he concluded. "Ehbien, encoreune bouteille decebordeau Moscouvite, n'estcepas? Morel vanous chaufferen core une petite bouteile. Morel!" cried the captain joyfully. -------- ①By the way, you seem to understand German? ②How do you say shelter in German? ③Refuge?Refuge in German is - unterkunft. ④What did you say? ⑤ Onterkoff (read wrong - translation notes).These Germans are so stupid.Do you say so, Monsieur Pierre? ⑥ Another bottle of Moscow Bordeaux, is that what you said?Morel will warm us another bottle, Morel! Morrel handed him a candle and a bottle of wine.The captain looked at Pierre in the candlelight, and Ramba was obviously taken aback by the despondency of his interlocutor.He came up to Pierre with an expression of genuine sympathy and pain, and bowed to him. "Ehbien, nous sommestristes," he said, touching Pierre on the arm. "Vousaurai—jefait delapeine? Non, vrai, avez—vousquelque chosen contremoi," he repeated. "Peut-etrerapportalasituation?" ②Pierre did not answer anything, but met the Frenchman's eyes with emotion. The sympathy that flowed there made him feel good. "Paroled'honneur, sansparler deceque jevousdois, j'aidel'amitiepourvous. Puis-jefainequelquechosepourvous? Disposezdemoi. C'estalavieetalamort. C'estlamainsurlecoeurquejevousledis." He said, patting his chest. "Merci (thank you)," said Pierre.The captain looked intently at Pierre, as he had done when he had learned the German word for "refuge", and his face suddenly brightened. "Ah! danscecasjeboisanotreamitie!" he exclaimed cheerfully, filling two glasses of wine.Pierre took his glass and drank it down.Lambard also toasted, shook Pierre's hand again, and leaned his elbow on the table sadly and preoccupied. -------- ①What's going on, we are all frowning. ②Did I annoy you?No, actually you have something to object to me, right?Probably something to do with the situation, yes? ③Frankly speaking, even if I don't talk about what I owe you, I think I am still friendly to you.Can't I take care of your worries?Please command!I live and die by it.I put my hand on my chest and tell you. ④Ah, with that said, I toast to our friendship! "Oui, moncherami, voilalescapricesdelafortume," he began. "Quim'auraitditquejeseraisoldatetcaptainededdragonsauservicedeBonaparte, commenousl'appellionsjadis. EtcepenBdantmevoilaaMoscouaveclui. Ilfautvousdire, monch-er," he went on, in the melancholy flat tone in which one wants to tell a long story, "quenotrenmoestl'undesplus anciens de la France" Then, with the frivolous and naive frankness of a Frenchman, the Captain tells Pierre the history of his ancestors, his childhood, boyhood and youth, with all his relations, property and family situation. "Mapauvremere"3 is self-evident and plays an important role in this story. "Maistoutcacen'estquelamiseenscenedelavie, lefondc'estl'amour. L'amour! N'est-cepas, m-rPierre?" he said, growing animated. "Encore unverr."④ -------- ①Yes, my friend, it is destiny.Who would have thought that I should be a soldier and captain of dragoons under Bonaparte—as we are accustomed to call him?But I am now in Moscow with him.I should tell you, dear. ②Our surname is the oldest surname in France. ③My poor mother. ④But all this is just the beginning of life, the essence of life is love.love!Isn't it, Monsieur Pierre!Continued Cup. Pierre toasted again and filled himself a third glass. "Oh! lessfemmes, lesfemmes!" The captain's eyes lit up, he looked at Pierre, and began to talk about love and his affairs.There are many such things, and it is easy to believe that one only needs to look at the officer's self-satisfied and handsome face, and the expression of joy when he talks about women.In spite of the sensuality with which the French regard love as special charm and poetry in the history of Rambat's love affairs, the captain's account is with a sincere confidence that he alone appreciates the charm of love, and describes women so seductively. People, so Pierre listened curiously. Obviously, the l'amour that this man is obsessed with is neither the simple love Pierre once felt for his wife nor the romantic unrequited love he had for Natasha (the two kinds of love Lambards disdain - the former is l'amourdescharrctiers, the latter is l'amourdesniBgauds ③); the l'amour that this man is attracted mainly consists in protecting the abnormal relationship for women and in giving the greatest attraction to the senses The intricate distortion of force. -------- ① Oh woman, woman! ②Love. ③The love of a coachman...the love of a fool. For example, the captain tells his touching love history: falling in love with a charming Marchioness of thirty-five, and at the same time falling in love with a charming and innocent girl of seventeen, the daughter of the charming Marchioness.The big-hearted rivalry between mother and daughter, which ended in the mother's self-sacrifice in betrothing her daughter to her lover, still thrilled the Captain, though it was a thing of the past.He then tells of a plot in which the husband plays the part of the lover, and he (the lover) plays the part of the husband: and several anecdotes from the souvenir d'Allemagne, where the refuge is Unterkunft, where les marismangent delachouxcrout, and, lesjeunesfillessonttropblondes. At last he came to a recent episode in Poland that the Captain still remembers vividly. He gestured quickly and blushed and said that he had saved the life of a Pole (a life-saving plot is always a must in a Captain's story), and that the Pole Entrusted to him his charming wife (Parisienne decoeur ②), I joined the French army.The captain was so happy that the charming Polish woman wanted to elope with him; but, driven by a large heart, the captain returned his wife to her husband, saying to him: jevousaisauvelavieetjesauvevotrehonneur! ③After repeating the sentence, the captain wiped his eyes and shook his whole body, as if trying to shake off the vulnerability caused by the touching memory. -------- ① (from) (interesting anecdote) about Germany ... the husbands drink cabbage soup ... the young lady has fair hair. ②The heart is a Parisian woman. ③I saved your life, and I want to save your reputation. When Pierre listened to the captain, as is often the case in late evening and under the influence of wine, he absorbed everything the captain said and understood it, and at the same time traced his personal past. , I don’t know why the memory suddenly appeared in my mind at this time.While listening to the love stories just now, his love for Natasha suddenly and unexpectedly came to his mind, and while reliving the scenes of love, he deliberately compared them with the story of Ramba.When hearing about the contradiction between love and duty, Pierre had before his eyes the whole detail of the last meeting with the object of his love at the Sukharev Tower.The meeting had no effect on him at the time; it never occurred to him even once afterwards.But it seemed to him now that there was a great poetic aspect to this meeting. Come here, Peter Kirilech, I recognize you. He heard her saying these words again now, saw her eyes, her smile, her traveling cap, a lock of her hair that was exposed... all this seemed to him to be tinged with tenderness and pity. Having finished his story of the charming Polish woman, the captain asked Pierre a question, asking him whether he had ever had a similar experience of self-sacrifice for love, and whether he was jealous of a legal husband. At this question, Pierre raised his head, feeling obliged to say what he was thinking; he began to explain that what he understood about love for a woman was something different.He said he had loved and still loved only one woman in his life, and that woman could never have been his. "Tiens!" said the captain. Pierre further explained that he had been in love with this woman since boyhood, but dared not think of her because she was too young and he was an illegitimate child without a surname.Then, when he had inherited his name and his fortune, he dared not think of her, because he loved her too much, and thought of her above all the world, and therefore above himself.Having said this, Pierre asked the captain if he understood this. The captain made a gesture to ask him to go on even if he didn't understand. "L'amourplatonique, lesnuages..." He muttered. -------- ①Look at what you said! ②Platonic love, illusory... Whether he had had a few glasses of wine, or the desire to speak frankly, or the thought that this man did not know, and would never know, the part of his story, or the sum of all these things, made Pierre let go of his tongue. .So, he stared into the distance with his bright eyes, and babbled about his whole life: including his marriage, Natasha's love story for his best friend, her subsequent betrayal, and his uncomplicated love for her. Relationship.In response to Ramba's question.He also told the things he had hidden at first—his social status, and even made his name public. In Pierre's story, what surprised the captain most was that Pierre was very rich and had two mansions in Moscow, but he abandoned them all, did not leave Moscow, but remained in the city without his name and title. It was late at night when they walked into the street together.The night is warm and bright.The sky to the left of the houses was reddened by the fires of Moscow, which had first burned on Petrovko Street.A sickle crescent moon hangs high in the sky on the right, and on the opposite side of the crescent moon hangs a bright comet, which is closely connected with love in the depths of Pierre's heart.At the gate stood Grantham, the cook, and two French soldiers, whose laughter and conversation in languages ​​they did not understand were audible.They were all watching the flames appear in the city. In a huge city, there is nothing terrible about a small fire far away. Pierre felt a rush of euphoria as he looked at the high sky, the moon, the comets, and the firelight. "Well, that's great, what else do you need?" he said to himself, but suddenly, he remembered his plan, and his dizziness and confusion made him immediately lean on the fence so as not to fall. Without taking time to say goodbye to his new friend, Pierre walked away from the door with unsteady steps, and as soon as he got back to his room, he lay down on the sofa and fell asleep immediately.