الفصل الفصل 206 · 第206章

“Well, that’s all!” said Kutúzov as he signed the last of the documents,

and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat white neck he

moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression.

The priest’s wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had after

all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had so long

been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to Kutúzov.

He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and said:

“Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!”

He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the

dish for her. “Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?” he asked,

moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest’s wife

smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the room.

The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to lunch with

him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to Kutúzov.

He found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same unbuttoned

overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he closed as Prince

Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. Prince Andrew saw by the

cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.

“Well, sit down, sit down here. Let’s have a talk,” said Kutúzov. “It’s

sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a father to you,

a second father....”

Prince Andrew told Kutúzov all he knew of his father’s death, and what

he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it.

“What... what they have brought us to!” Kutúzov suddenly cried in an

agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince

Andrew’s story the condition Russia was in. “But give me time, give me

time!” he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue this

agitating conversation, and added: “I sent for you to keep you with me.”

“I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the

staff,” replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutúzov noticed.

Kutúzov glanced inquiringly at him.

“But above all,” added Prince Andrew, “I have grown used to my regiment,

am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I should be

sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being with you,

believe me...”

A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutúzov’s podgy

face. He cut Bolkónski short.

“I am sorry, for I need you. But you’re right, you’re right! It’s not

here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men are

not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be advisers

served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I remember,

yes, I remember you with the standard!” said Kutúzov, and a flush of

pleasure suffused Prince Andrew’s face at this recollection.

Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutúzov offered his cheek to

be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man’s eyes.

Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutúzov’s tears came easily, and that he

was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a wish to

show sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz was both

pleasant and flattering to him.

“Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of

honor!” He paused. “I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to

send.” And changing the subject, Kutúzov began to speak of the Turkish

war and the peace that had been concluded. “Yes, I have been much

blamed,” he said, “both for that war and the peace... but everything

came at the right time. Tout vient à point à celui qui sait attendre. *

And there were as many advisers there as here...” he went on, returning

to the subject of “advisers” which evidently occupied him. “Ah, those

advisers!” said he. “If we had listened to them all we should not have

made peace with Turkey and should not have been through with that war.

Everything in haste, but more haste, less speed. Kámenski would have

been lost if he had not died. He stormed fortresses with thirty thousand

men. It is not difficult to capture a fortress but it is difficult to

win a campaign. For that, not storming and attacking but patience and

time are wanted. Kámenski sent soldiers to Rustchuk, but I only employed

these two things and took more fortresses than Kámenski and made them

Turks eat horseflesh!” He swayed his head. “And the French shall too,

believe me,” he went on, growing warmer and beating his chest, “I’ll

make them eat horseflesh!” And tears again dimmed his eyes.

* “Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait.”

“But shan’t we have to accept battle?” remarked Prince Andrew.

“We shall if everybody wants it; it can’t be helped.... But believe

me, my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: patience and

time, they will do it all. But the advisers n’entendent pas de cette

oreille, voilà le mal. * Some want a thing—others don’t. What’s one to

do?” he asked, evidently expecting an answer. “Well, what do you want

us to do?” he repeated and his eye shone with a deep, shrewd look.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” he continued, as Prince Andrew still did not

reply: “I will tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon

cher,” he paused, “abstiens-toi” *(2)—he articulated the French proverb

deliberately.

* “Don’t see it that way, that’s the trouble.”

* (2) “When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing.”

“Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I share

your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor a prince,

nor a commander in chief, but a father! If you want anything come

straight to me. Good-by, my dear boy.”

Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter

had left the room Kutúzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his

unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.

Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but after that

interview with Kutúzov he went back to his regiment reassured as to

the general course of affairs and as to the man to whom it had been

entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all personal motive in

that old man—in whom there seemed to remain only the habit of passions,

and in place of an intellect (grouping events and drawing conclusions)

only the capacity calmly to contemplate the course of events—the more

reassured he was that everything would be as it should. “He will not

bring in any plan of his own. He will not devise or undertake

anything,” thought Prince Andrew, “but he will hear everything, remember

everything, and put everything in its place. He will not hinder

anything useful nor allow anything harmful. He understands that there is

something stronger and more important than his own will—the inevitable

course of events, and he can see them and grasp their significance,

and seeing that significance can refrain from meddling and renounce his

personal wish directed to something else. And above all,” thought Prince

Andrew, “one believes in him because he’s Russian, despite the novel

by Genlis and the French proverbs, and because his voice shook when he

said: ‘What they have brought us to!’ and had a sob in it when he said

he would ‘make them eat horseflesh!’”

On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity and

general approval were founded with which, despite court influences, the

popular choice of Kutúzov as commander in chief was received.