War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [105]
But the emperor smiled and interrupted him:
“How many miles?”
“From where to where, Your Majesty?”
“From Dürenstein to Krems.”
“Three and a half miles, Your Majesty.”
“Have the French abandoned the left bank?”
“According to the scouts’ reports, the last of them crossed at night on rafts.”
“Is there enough forage in Krems?”
“Forage was not delivered in the quantities…”
The emperor interrupted him:
“At what time was General Schmidt killed?”
“At seven o’clock, I believe.”
“At seven o’clock? Very sad! Very sad!”
The emperor said that he thanked him and inclined his head. Prince Andrei went out and was at once surrounded on all sides by courtiers. On all sides affectionate eyes looked at him and affectionate words came to him. Yesterday’s imperial adjutant reproached him for not staying in the palace, and offered him his own house. The minister of war came up to congratulate him on the Order of Maria Theresa of the third degree, which the emperor was to bestow on him. The empress’s chamberlain invited him to her majesty. The archduchess also wanted to see him. He did not know whom to answer and needed a few seconds to collect his wits. The Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him to the window, and started talking to him.
Contrary to what Bilibin had said, the news he brought was received joyfully. A thanksgiving prayer service was ordered. Kutuzov was awarded a Maria Theresa with large cross, and the whole army received rewards. Bolkonsky received invitations from all sides and had to spend the whole morning paying visits to the high dignitaries of Austria. Having finished his visits past four in the afternoon, mentally composing a letter to his father about the battle and his journey to Brünn, Prince Andrei was returning home to Bilibin’s. Before going to Bilibin’s, Prince Andrei had gone to a bookstore to stock up on books for the campaign and had spent a long time there. By the porch of the house occupied by Bilibin stood a britzka half filled with things, and Franz, Bilibin’s servant, dragging a trunk with difficulty, came out the door.
“What’s this?” asked Bolkonsky.
“Ach, Erlaucht!” said Franz, loading the trunk into the britzka with difficulty. “Wir ziehen noch weiter. Der Bösewicht ist schon wieder hinter uns her!”*208
“What is it? What?” Prince Andrei kept asking.
Bilibin came out to meet Bolkonsky. The usually calm face of Bilibin was troubled.
“Non, non, avouez que c’est charmant,” he was saying, “cette histoire du pont de Tabor” (a bridge in Vienna). “Ils l’ont passé sans coup férir.”*209
Prince Andrei understood nothing.
“But where are you coming from that you don’t know what every coachman in town already knows?”
“I’m coming from the archduchess. I didn’t hear anything there.”
“And you didn’t see people packing up everywhere?”
“No, I didn’t…But what’s it all about?” Prince Andrei asked impatiently.
“What’s it all about? It’s about the French having crossed the bridge defended by Auersperg, and the bridge wasn’t blown up, so Murat is now racing down the road to Brünn, and they’ll be here today or tomorrow.”
“What do you mean, here? How is it they didn’t blow up the bridge, since it’s mined?”
“That’s what I’m asking. Nobody knows, not even Bonaparte himself.”
Bolkonsky shrugged his shoulders.
“But if the bridge has been crossed, that means the army is lost: it will be cut off,” he said.
“That’s just the thing,” answered Bilibin. “Listen. The French enter Vienna, as I said. Everything’s fine. The next day, that is, yesterday, the gentlemen marshals, Murat, Lannes, and Belliard, get on their horses and set out for the bridge. (Note that all three are Gascons.) ‘Gentlemen,’ says one, ‘you know that the bridge of Thabor has been mined and countermined, and that in front of it is a terrible tête de pont and fifteen thousand troops, who have been ordered to blow up the bridge and not let us onto it. But it will be pleasing to our sovereign emperor Napoleon if we take this bridge.