War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [21]
“But he must be a Mason,”22 he said, meaning the abbé he had seen at the soirée.
“That’s all rubbish,” Prince Andrei stopped him again, “better let’s talk about business. Have you been to the horse guards?…”
“No, I haven’t, but here’s what’s come into my head and I wanted to tell you. There’s war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for freedom, I could understand it, I’d be the first to go into military service; but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world…is not right.”
Prince Andrei merely shrugged his shoulders at Pierre’s childish talk. He made it look as though he could not reply to such stupidity; but in fact it was hard to reply to this naïve question in any other way than Prince Andrei had done.
“If everyone made war only according to his own convictions, there would be no war,” he said.
“And that would be excellent,” said Pierre.
Prince Andrei smiled.
“It might very well be excellent, but it will never happen…”
“Well, what makes you go to war?” asked Pierre.
“What makes me? I don’t know. I have to. Besides, I’m going…” He paused. “I’m going because this life I lead here, this life—is not for me!”
VI
There was the rustle of a woman’s dress in the next room. Prince Andrei shook himself as if coming to his senses, and his face took on the same expression it had had in Anna Pavlovna’s drawing room. Pierre lowered his legs from the sofa. The princess came in. She had already changed to a house dress, but one just as elegant and fresh. Prince Andrei stood up, politely moving an armchair for her.
“Why is it, I often wonder,” she began, in French as always, hurriedly and fussily sitting down in the armchair, “why is it that Annette has never married? How stupid you all are, messieurs, not to have married her. Forgive me, but you understand nothing about women. You’re such an arguer, M’sieur Pierre.”
“I also keep arguing with your husband. I don’t understand why he wants to go to the war,” said Pierre, without any constraint (so usual in the relations of a young man with a young woman), turning to the princess.
The princess gave a flutter. Evidently Pierre’s words had touched her to the quick.
“Ah, that’s just what I say!” she said. “I don’t understand, I decidedly do not understand, why men can’t live without war. Why is it that we women want none of it and have no need of it? Well, you be the judge. I keep telling him: here he’s his uncle’s adjutant, a most brilliant position. He’s so well-known, so appreciated by everyone. The other day at the Apraksins’ I heard a lady ask: ‘C’est ça le fameux prince André?’ Ma parole d’honneur!”*71 she laughed. “He’s so well received everywhere. He could easily become an imperial adjutant. You know, the sovereign spoke to him very graciously. Annette and I were saying that it could easily be arranged. What do you think?”
Pierre looked at Prince Andrei and, noticing that his friend did not like this conversation, made no reply.
“When do you go?” he asked.
“Ah! ne me parlez pas de ce départ, ne m’en parlez pas. Je ne veux pas en entendre parler,”†72 the princess said in the same capriciously playful tone in which she had spoken with Ippolit in the drawing room and which was so obviously unsuited to the family circle, where Pierre was like a member. “Today, when I thought how I’d have to break off all these dear relations…And then, you know, André?” She winked meaningfully at her husband. “J’ai peur, j’ai peur!”‡73 she whispered, her back shuddering.
Her husband looked at her as if he was surprised to notice there was someone else in the room besides himself and Pierre. However, with cold politeness he inquiringly addressed his wife:
“What are you afraid of, Liza? I cannot understand,” he said.
“See what egoists all men are;