War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [38]
“Bonjour, ma cousine,” said Pierre. “Vous ne me reconnaissez pas?”†104
“I recognize you only too well, only too well.”
“How is the count’s health? May I see him?” Pierre asked awkwardly, as usual, but without embarrassment.
“The count is suffering both physically and morally, and it seems you have taken care to cause him as much moral suffering as possible.”
“May I see the count?” Pierre repeated.
“Hm!…If you want to kill him, to kill him outright, you may see him. Olga, go and see whether uncle’s bouillon is ready, it’s soon time,” she added, thereby showing Pierre that they were busy, and busy comforting his father, while he was obviously only busy upsetting him.
Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters for a while and, bowing, said:
“I’ll go to my room, then. Tell me when I can see him.”
He went out, and the ringing, though not loud, laughter of the sister with the mole could be heard behind him.
The next day Prince Vassily came and settled in the count’s house. He summoned Pierre and said to him:
“Mon cher, si vous vous conduisez ici, comme à Pétersburg, vous finirez très mal; c’est tout ce je vous dis.*105 The count is very, very ill: you must not see him at all.”
Since then Pierre had not been disturbed, and he spent whole days alone upstairs in his room.
When Boris came in, Pierre was pacing his room, stopping now and then in the corners, making threatening gestures to the wall, as if piercing the invisible enemy with a sword, and looking sternly over his spectacles, and then starting his promenade again, uttering vague words, shrugging his shoulders, and spreading his arms.
“L’Angleterre a vécu,” he said, frowning and pointing his finger at someone. “Monsieur Pitt comme traitre à la nation et au droit des gens est condamné à…”†106 —he did not have time to finish Pitt’s sentence, imagining at that moment that he was Napoleon himself and with his hero had already carried out the dangerous crossing of the Pas de Calais and conquered London, before he saw a young, trim, and handsome officer come into his room. He stopped. Pierre had left Boris a fourteen-year-old boy and had decidedly no recollection of him; but, despite that, with the quick and cordial manner proper to him, he took his hand and smiled amiably.
“Do you remember me?” Boris said quietly, with a pleasant smile. “I’ve come to see the count with my mother, but it seems he’s not entirely well.”
“Yes, it seems he’s unwell. They keep disturbing him,” Pierre replied, trying to recall who this young man was.
Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him, but he did not consider it necessary to give his name, and, not feeling the least embarrassed, looked him straight in the eye.
“Count Rostov invites you to dinner today,” he said after a rather long silence, which was awkward for Pierre.
“Ah! Count Rostov!” Pierre began joyfully. “So you’re his son Ilya? Can you imagine, I didn’t recognize you at first. Remember, we used to go to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot…long ago.”
“You are mistaken,” Boris said unhurriedly, with a bold and slightly mocking smile. “I am Boris, the son of Princess Anna Mikhailovna Drubetskoy. The Rostov father is called Ilya, the son is Nikolai. And I never knew any Madame Jacquot.”
Pierre waved his hands and head, as if he was being attacked by mosquitoes or bees.
“Ah, well, how about that! I got everything confused. There are so many relations in Moscow! You’re Boris…yes. So we’ve finally straightened it out. Well, what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? Won’t the English be in trouble if Napoleon crosses the channel? I think the expedition is very important. If only Villeneuve doesn’t botch it!”31
Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the newspapers, and was hearing about