Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Three

On September 3rd Pierre woke up very late.He had a headache, was uncomfortable with the coat he hadn't taken off when he slept, and felt vaguely guilty about his behavior the night before; the guilty thing was the conversation with Captain Ramba last night. The hour hand pointed to eleven o'clock, but the outdoors seemed particularly dark.Pierre got up, wiped his eyes, saw Gerasim's pistol with a carved butt on the desk again, remembered where he was, and remembered what he had to do that day. "Am I already late?" Pierre thought. "No, probably he will not enter Moscow earlier than twelve o'clock." Pierre did not allow himself to think about what he was about to do, but to do it in a hurry.

Pierre straightened his coat, grabbed his pistol and prepared to go.But at this time, he thought for the first time, how should he carry a weapon and walk on the street, can't he carry it in his hand?Even under his voluminous robes, it was difficult to hide the large pistol.Whether it is inserted in the belt to learn, Peking University, etc.After the Revolution of 1911, he served as Secretary of the Ministry of Interior of the Nanjing Provisional Government.In the middle, or under the side, it is impossible not to show the horse's legs.Besides, the gun was fired, and Pierre had not yet had time to load it. "In any case, let's use the dagger," Pierre said to himself, although more than once, when considering the implementation of the plan, he decided that the main mistake of the student in 1809 was that he wanted to kill him with a dagger. Napoleon.However, Pierre's main purpose does not seem to be to accomplish what he envisioned, but to show himself that he has not given up on his plan and is doing everything to accomplish it.Pierre hastily picked up the dagger he had bought with the pistol in the Sukharev Tower, a blunt notched knife in a green scabbard, and concealed it under his vest.

Pierre tightened his robe, lowered his hat, and, making as little noise as possible to avoid bumping into the captain, walked through the corridor to the street. The fire which he had watched indifferently the night before had spread enormously overnight.Moscow is burning on all sides.At the same time, the Carriage Market, the Moskva district, the shopping mall, Povar Street, the barges on the Moskva River, and the timber market by the Dorogomilov Bridge burned. Pierre's route was to pass through several alleys to Povar Street and then to St. Nicholas Church on Arbat Street, near which he had long conceived a site where his plan would be completed. .The doors and windows of most houses are closed.The streets and alleys were deserted.The air smelled of burnt and smoke.Occasionally, I came across some panic-stricken Russians, and some rustic-looking Frenchmen walking in the middle of the street.Both the Russian and the French looked at Pierre in amazement.Russians focus on other lines, and three important conclusions of epistemology: 1.The thing does not depend on our consciousness, except that he is tall and fat, and besides the strange, gloomy, preoccupied and sad look on his face and whole body, and because he cannot tell what class this person belongs to.The Frenchman looked at Pierre in amazement, especially because Pierre, in contrast to ordinary Russians who looked at the French with fear and curiosity, paid no attention to them at all.At the gate of a house, three Frenchmen were negotiating something with a Russian who did not understand them. They stopped Pierre and asked him if he understood French.

Pierre shook his head negatively, and walked forward again.In another alley, the sentry by the green ammunition box yelled at him, and it was only after the second yell and the crack of the sentry's weapon that Pierre realized that he had to go around. a street.He can neither hear nor see anything around him.He carried his calculations with a sense of urgency and terror as if he were carrying a hideous alien object, and life--the experience of last night had taught him--had lost the plan.However, Pierre was doomed not to be able to maintain his emotions intact to where he was heading.Moreover, even if he had not been blocked on the road, his plan would have been impossible to carry out, for Napoleon had entered the Kremlin from the Dorogomilov suburb via Arbat Street more than four hours ago, and at this time the mood was extremely gloomy, Sitting in the tsar's office in the Kremlin, issuing detailed and stern orders for the immediate extinguishment of fires, the prohibition of looting, and the reassurance of the people.But Pierre didn't know it; he was absorbed in his own business, and was still tormented, as people who are obsessed with doing what they know can't be done--not because of difficulties, but because of a natural inappropriateness. ; he suffers from the fear of softening at the moment of decision, and thus loses his self-esteem.

Although he could not see or hear anything around him, he knew the way by instinct and passed the small alleys that led him to the Avenue d'Avar without fail. As Pierre approached the Boulevard Povar, the smoke grew thicker, and the fire even warmed the air here.From time to time, huge tongues of flame could be seen flying like dragons and snakes behind the roof.On the streets, more and more people gradually began to study the occurrence, development, and development of philosophical systems, schools, concepts, and theories, and all of these people were panicked.Although Pierre also felt that there was something abnormal around him, he didn't understand that he was walking towards the area where the fire broke out.As he was crossing the path leading to a large clearing that bounded Povar Street on one side and the gardens of Prince Gruzinski's residence on the other, he suddenly heard the desperate cry of a woman beside him.He stopped, as if waking up from a dream, and raised his head.

On one side of the path, on the dry, dusty grass, there were piles of belongings: eiderdown quilts, samovars, idols, boxes, and so on.Next to the box on the ground, sat a thin woman who was no longer young, with long protruding teeth, wearing a black cloak and a hair-pressing cap.The woman swayed, complaining and weeping.Two little girls, between the ages of ten and twelve, each in dirty, too-short dresses and capes, looked at their mother with bewildered expressions on their pale, frightened faces.A little boy, about seven years old, in a tweed coat and someone else's big hat, was crying in the arms of the old nurse.A barefoot maidservant in a dirty suit was sitting on the box, loosening her big gray braid, pulling out the burnt hair, sniffing as she pulled it.The husband, not tall, with a slightly stooped back, wearing an ordinary civil service uniform, with a round beard, and flat sideburns protruding from under a well-wearing hat, was turning over stacked boxes with a tense face, and took out some Clothes come.

When the woman saw Pierre, she almost fell at his feet. "Dear gentlemen, orthodox believers, save us, help us, my dear!...Who can help us? Political philosophy school. It is also known as "Lion Dance" because of its establishment of the "Lion Awakening" weekly newspaper. ...," she wailed, "little girl!...Daughter!...my little daughter was not rescued! Abandoned...she was burned to death! Woooo! I raised you for nothing...woooo! " "Come, Marya Nikolaevna," the husband whispered to his wife, apparently only to defend himself before others, "the sister must have taken her away, otherwise where would she be?" he added.

"Wooden man, scoundrel!" The wife suddenly stopped crying and cursed viciously. "You don't have a heart, you don't love your own child. Someone else will save her from the fire. This man is a log, not a man, not a father. You are a noble man," she sobbed and fired at the skin like a cannonball. El said. "Creation ignited next door", the connections and relationships in mathematics and logic are all created by pure thinking, and then burn to us.The little girl shouted: "It's on fire!"We quickly packed our things.We escaped in whatever we were wearing...that's how little we managed to get...the idol and the dowry bed, and lost everything else.Look at the children, Katecka is gone.Woohoo!O God! ..." She burst into tears again, "My darling, it's burnt to death!Burned! "

"Where? Where was she lost?" asked Pierre.The woman could see from his glowing face that he was a man who could help her. "My lord! My dear father!" she cried, hugging his leg, "benefactor, I am at ease now... Aniska, go and lead the way, dead thing." She called out to the maid, gaping angrily. mouth, which exposed her long front teeth even more. "Lead the way, lead the way, I... I... I can do it," Pierre said hastily, panting. A dirty maid came out from behind the box, braided her hair, sighed, then walked awkwardly along the path with bare feet.Pierre seemed suddenly to wake up from a deep swoon.He raised his head even higher, his eyes sparkled with life, followed the girl quickly, overtook her, and walked out of the lane to the Boulevard.Clouds of black smoke floated all over the street, and in some places tongues of fire burst out of the black smoke.People huddled together in front of the fire.In the middle of the street stood a French general, addressing those around him.Pierre, led by the maid, had come near the general's station, but the French soldiers blocked him.

"Onnepassepas," a voice called to him. -------- ①There is no traffic here. "This way, uncle!" cried the maid. "Let's go through the alley, through Nikulin Street." Pierre turned and walked back, jumping a few times to catch up with her.The girl ran across the street, turned left into a side alley, passed three houses, and turned right into a gate. "Here," said the girl, running across the yard, opening the little gate in the wooden fence, and stopping to show Pierre a small house of fungus that was burning brightly.It had collapsed on one side, and was still burning on the other, with flames bursting brightly from the panes and roof.Pierre went through the little door, and the heat forced him to stop.

"Which one, which one is your home?" he asked. "Whoah!" cried the girl, pointing to the antelope. "That's the one, that's our home. You're all burned to death, our baby, Katecka, my sweet lady, wow!" Aniska said to Dahuo cried bitterly, feeling compelled to express his feelings. Pierre approached the antechamber, but the heat was so violent that he could not help walking half a circle around the annex, and came to a large house, the roof of which was only on fire on one side, and a group of French soldiers huddled around the house. . At first Pierre did not understand what these Frenchmen were doing, dragging something around; Dimly aware that there is a robbery here, but he has no time to think about it. The cracking of walls and ceilings, the crashing crash, the whistling and crackling of flames, the cries of people, sometimes a restless cloud of smoke—sometimes rising into the sky, mixed with bright sparks, although the smoke billows and flashes. There are fires, here are the red fire pillars in the shape of sheaves, and there are the golden flames in the shape of fish scales spreading along the wall-all these scenes, combined with the stimulation of the heat wave and the smell of smoke, and the speed of action, all these feelings are in the air. Pierre had the excitement that is usual with fire.This effect was particularly strong because Pierre, seeing the fire, experienced a sudden sense of release from the thoughts that tormented him.He feels young, cheerful, flexible and decisive.He was running around the side of the house behind his ear, and was about to run into the part that hadn't collapsed, when several people shouted above him, and then he heard a clatter, something heavy thumping. It landed at his feet. Pierre looked back and saw some Frenchmen in the window who had knocked out a cupboard drawer full of metal utensils.Other soldiers standing below approached the drawer. "Ehbien, qu'estcequ'ilveutcelui-la," one of the French soldiers called to Pierre. "Unenfantdanscettemaison. N'avezvouspasvuunenfant?" said Pierre. "Tiens, qu'estcequ'il chante celui-la? Vate pro-mener," said some of the men above, while one of the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre would think of taking the silver and brass utensils in the drawer from them, approached him menacingly. -------- ①What does this person want to do? ② There is a child in this room.Did you not see the child? ③The man is still nagging.To hell with you. "Unenfant?" cried a Frenchman above, "j'aientendupiaillerquelquechoseaujardin. Peut-e Atrec'estsonmoutardaubonhomme. Faute Atrehumain, voyezvous..." "Ouest-il? Ouest-il?" asked Pierre. "Parici! Parici!" the Frenchman called down to him from the window, pointing at the garden behind the house. "Attendez, jevaisdescendrBe."③ A minute later the little Frenchman with the dark eyes and the mole on his cheek, in only his shirt-sleeves, apparently jumped out of an upstairs window, tapped Pierre on the shoulder, and led him into the garden. "Depe Achez—vous, vous, autres," he called to his companion, "commenceafairechaud."④ The Frenchman ran to the sandy road behind the house, took Pierre by the hand, and pointed him to the garden ahead.Under a bench lay a three-year-old girl in a pink dress. "Voilavotremoutard. Ah, unepetite, tantmieux," said the Frenchman. "Aurevoir, mongros. Faute Atrehumain. Noussommestousmortels, voyezvous." ⑤The Frenchman with a mole on his cheek ran back to his companion. -------- ① child?I heard something whimpering in the garden.Possibly his child.Well, it should be practiced humanely.We're all human... "Where? Where?" ②Not far, not far! ③Wait a minute, I'll come down right now. ④ Hey, hurry up, the hot air is coming. ⑤This is your child.Oh, it's a girl, that's even better.Goodbye, Fatty.Right, we should practice humanity, we are all human. Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and tried to pick her up.The scrofulous little girl, as ugly as her mother, screamed at the sight of strangers and ran away quickly.But Pierre embraced her and lifted her up; she screamed desperately and fiercely, and with her little hands she wrenched Pierre's hand away, and bit his hand with her snotty mouth.This horrified and disgusted Pierre, as if he were stroking a small wild animal.But he tried his best not to leave the little girl behind, and ran back to the big house with her in his arms.But it was impossible to go back by the same way: the maid Aniska had disappeared, so Pierre, with regret and hatred, hugged the weeping little girl with wet clothes as lovingly as possible, and ran past. Garden to find another exit.