Chapter 30 Chapter Thirty

The residents fleeing by car or on foot and the retreating troops watched the flames of the fire that first ignited on September 2 from different roads with different feelings. The Rostovs' convoy stopped at the village of Mytishchi that night.Twenty versts from Moscow.They left too late on September 1, the roads were crowded with vehicles and soldiers, and they forgot too many things, and they sent people back to get them, so I decided to stay five versts outside Moscow for the night.The next morning he woke up late, and at the same time stopped and stopped, so that he only reached the village of Damytishi.At ten o'clock in the evening, the Rostov family and the wounded who accompanied them lived in several large courtyards and farmhouses in this big village.The Rostovs' servants and coachmen, as well as the orderlies of the wounded officer, having settled their masters, had supper, fed the horses, and then went out onto the porch.

In the farmhouse next door lay Adjutant Raevsky wounded, with a broken wrist, and the terrible pain he felt made him groan pitifully, his groans audible in the darkness of the autumn night. fear.The first night the adjutant lived with the Rostovs in a farm yard.The countess said that she could not close her eyes because of the groans, and so she moved to a poorer farmhouse in the village of Mytishchi, so as to be far away from the wounded man. In the darkness of the night a servant, standing on the high roof of a carriage by the gate, saw another small patch of fire.Everyone had seen this fire before, and everyone knew that the village of Malymytishchi was on fire, and that it was Mamonov's Cossack who set it on fire.

"This fire, my brethren, is new," said the orderly.Everyone stared at the fire. "Didn't I tell you that the village of Little Mytish was set on fire by Mamonov's Cossacks?" "That's them! No, this is not the village of Mytishchi, it's far away." "Look, it's in Moscow." The two servants came down the porch, went around to the side of the carriage, and sat down on the running board. "This place is to the left! The village of Mytish is over there, and this fire is not in that direction at all." Several people approached the two men, "Look, it's burning," said one, "that's the fire in Moscow, gentlemen; either Susev Street or Rogozh Street. ’ No one answered this statement, and all those present just watched in silence for a long time the rising flames of this new fire in the distance.

Old Danilo Terentitch, the count's valet (as they called him), came up to the crowd, shouting Mishka. "You haven't seen enough, fool... If the count calls for someone, no one will be there; go and put away your clothes first." "I was just fetching water," said Mishka. "What do you think, Danilo Terentych, it seems like the flames of Moscow?" said a servant. Danilo Terenditch made no answer, and there was another long silence.The fire is spreading, swaying, and spreading farther and farther. "God bless! . . . There's a wind and a dry sky . . . " said another voice.

"Look, it's burned like this, oh God! You can see the fire crows floating over. God forgive us sinners! " "It's going to be extinguished, isn't it?" "Who's going to put it out?" said Danilo Terenditch, who had been silent until now.His voice was calm and measured. "It's Moscow, little ones," he said, "she's the Holy Mother..." His voice broke off, and suddenly he began to weep like an old man.This seemed to be the result of their waiting, their waiting, to understand what the light they saw meant to them.There were sighs, prayers, and whimpers from the count's old valet.