Chapter 34 Chapter Thirty-Four

When Pierre ran through courtyards and alleys and returned with the girl to the Gruzinsky Garden on the corner of Povar Street, he did not recognize for a moment the place from which he had just left to find the child: here Blocked many people and belongings dragged from the house.In addition to a few Russian families with their belongings who escaped the fire, there were also some French soldiers in various costumes.Pierre paid no attention to these people.He was anxious to find the little official's family, so that he could hand over his daughter to his mother, and then go to save others.Pierre felt that he had a lot to do quickly.Pierre, feverish from the heat and the running, felt a youthful, energetic, and resolute energy stronger than he had felt when he ran to save the child.The little girl was quiet now, clutching Pierre's gown with her little hands, and sat on his arms, looking around her like a little wild animal.Pierre looked at her from time to time and smiled slightly.He seemed to see in this sickly frightened face the expression of the innocent victim who moved him.

In the original place, the little official was gone, and neither was his wife.Pierre walked quickly through the crowd, looking at the faces he encountered.He had inadvertently noticed a Georgian or Arminian family consisting of a tall elder (with a handsome oriental face, wearing a new leather jacket and new boots), an old man of the same face. Composed of the wife and a young lady.This very young woman, in Pierre's opinion, was the perfect embodiment of Oriental beauty, with thick, black eyebrows arched in outline, and a long, expressionless, but unusually soft red face.Among the scattered things among the people in the open space, she wore a luxurious satin cloak-like gown and a light purple turban, like a delicate greenhouse plant thrown on the snow.She was sitting on a bundle not far behind the old lady, looking at the ground motionlessly with her big black almond eyes with big eyelashes.Obviously, she knew her beauty and was worried about it.Pierre was amazed by this appearance, and when he was in a hurry, after entering the fence, he often turned his head to look at her.Although he came near the fence, he still couldn't find the person he was looking for.Pierre stopped and looked around.

The appearance of Pierre with the little girl in his arms was more noticeable than before, and several Russians, both men and women, gathered around him. "Who did you get separated from, good man?" "You're a famous family yourself, aren't you? Whose doll?" The people asked him. Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black cloak who had just been sitting here with her children, and he asked if anyone knew her, and she went there. "This must be the Anfirov girl," said an elderly deacon to a pockmarked mother. "God bless, God bless," he added in his customary low voice.

"Where are the Anfirovs?" Mamma said. "The Anfirovs left early in the morning. And the doll either belongs to Marya Nikolaevna or the Ivanovs." "He said—a woman, but Marya Nikolaevna is a wife," said a servant. "Yes, you know her, she has long teeth and is very thin," said Pierre. "It's Maria Nikolaevna. When the wolves came, they went into the garden," said Mother, pointing to the French soldiers. "Oh, God bless," said the deacon again. "Go over there, there they are, she's always crying, and very sad," Mam said again. "It's her, go here."

But Pierre did not listen to Mama.For a few seconds he stared intently at a place a few paces away from him, where something was wrong.He looked at the Alminian family and the two French soldiers approaching them.One of them was a frivolous dwarf in a blue army coat with a rope around his waist.He wore a pointed hat and had bare feet.The other one, which surprised Pierre in particular, was a tall, thin, slightly stooped, fair-haired man who moved slowly and had the look of an idiot on his face.The fellow wore a duffel coat, blue trousers, and a pair of ripped cavalry boots.As soon as the little French soldier in a blue overcoat, without boots, approached the Arminian, said something, he immediately grabbed the elder's foot, and the elder hurriedly took off his boots.The man in the women's coat stopped facing the beautiful Arminian, without speaking or moving, and looked at her with his fingers in his trouser pockets.

"And then, the baby," said Pierre, handing the baby to Mamma, and hastily addressing her in a commanding tone, "you give it to them, give it to them!" The weeping little girl put her eyes on the ground, then turned her head to look at the French soldier and the Arminian family.The elder was already sitting there barefoot.The little French soldier took off his second boot and was slapping one with the other.The elder was whimpering and talking, but Pierre just glanced at it, all his attention was now focused on the French soldier in the cloak, who, after approaching the young woman slowly shaking his head, pulled his hand from his trousers. The bag reached out and grabbed her by the neck.

The Arminian beauty continued to sit still, as before, with her long eyelashes drooping, as if neither saw nor felt what the soldier was doing to her. By the time Pierre ran a few paces up to the French soldiers, the tall, thin robber in a cloak had torn the necklace she was wearing from the Armenian girl's neck, while the young woman was holding the tip of her neck in her hands. screamed loudly. "Laissezcette femme!" cried Pierre in a hoarse, furious voice, grabbing the tall hunchbacked soldier by the shoulders and throwing him aside.The soldier fell, got up and ran away quickly.But his accomplice, throwing off his boots, drew his saber and pressed on Pierre menacingly.

"Voyons, pasdebetises!" he exclaimed. -------- ①Let go of that woman! ②Hey, hello!Don't mess around! Pierre was at the height of his rage, in such a way that he could not remember anything, and his strength increased tenfold.Before the barefoot French soldier could draw his saber, he threw himself on the ground, knocked him down, and beat him with his fist.There was applause from the crowd, and at this moment, a patrol of French Lancers appeared on the corner of the street.The Lancers galloped up to Pierre and the French and surrounded them.Pierre remembered nothing of what happened after that.He remembered beating and being beaten, and finally he felt his hands tied and a group of French soldiers standing around him searching his clothes.

"Ilaunporgnard, lieutenant." Pierre understood their first words. "Ah, unearme!" said the officer, turning his face to the barefoot soldier who had been captured with Pierre. "C'estbon, vousdireztoutcelaauconseildeguerre," said the officer.Then immediately turned to Pierre: "Parlez-vousfrancais, vous?" Pierre looked around with bloodshot eyes, but did not answer.Probably because of his frightened expression, after the officer said something in a low voice, four more Lancers came out and stood on either side of him. "Parlez-vousfrancais?" the officer repeated to him, standing a little away from him. "Faitesvenirl'interpreAte." ⑤ A short man in Russian civilian uniform rode out.Pierre recognized him at once by his clothes and his accent as a French clerk in a Moscow shop.

-------- ① Lieutenant, he has a dagger. ②Ah, a weapon! ③Okay, okay, tell them all in the court-martial. ④Do you know French? ⑤ Call the interpreter. "Iln'apas I'aird'unhommedupeuple." The translator said after looking at Pierre. "Oh, oh! cam'abienl'aird'undesincendiBaires," said the officer. "Demandezluicequ'ilest?" he added. "Who are you?" asked the interpreter. "You have to answer sir," he said. "Jenevousdiraipasquijesuis. Jesuisvotreprisonnier. Emmenezmoi," Pierre said suddenly in French.

"Ah! Ah!" said the officer, frowning. "Marchons!"④ A crowd gathered around the Lancers.Closest to Pierre was the pockmarked Mama with the little girl; when the patrol moved, she moved a few steps forward. "Where is this going to take you, my dear?" she said, "little girl, where shall I put my little girl, if she doesn't belong to their family!" she kept saying. "Qu'estcequ'elleveut, cettefemme," asked the officer. -------- ①He is not like ordinary people. ②Oh, oh!He's a lot like an arsonist.Ask him, who is he? ③I won't tell you who I am.I am your prisoner.Take me away. ④Ah!what!Let's go! ⑤What is she going to do? Pierre looked drunk.Seeing the little girl he rescued, his emotions became even more excited. "Lequ'ell edit?" he said. "Ellem'aportemafillequejeviensdesauverdesflammes," he said at last, "Adieu!"1 Not knowing even himself how this aimless lie could have been blurted out, he walked with firm, triumphant steps between the two lines of French soldiers. middle. -------- ①What is she going to do?She was holding my daughter, whom I had just rescued from the fire.do not! This patrol of French soldiers, one of several patrols sent to the streets of Moscow by order of Duronière to stop looting and, in particular, to catch arsonists, was brought, according to the unanimous opinion of the senior French officers that day. The one who came to the fire.After patrolling a few streets, the patrol caught five more Russian suspects: a small shopkeeper, two high school students, a farmer, a servant, and several robbers.But among these suspects, Pierre is the biggest suspect.When they were taken to spend the night in a large room in the Zubov fortress (where there was no detention facility), Pierre was placed in solitary confinement under strict supervision.