War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [480]
When she mentioned that it had all happened the day after her father’s funeral, her voice trembled. She turned away and then, as if fearing that Rostov might take her words for a wish to move him to pity her, gave him a questioningly frightened glance. Tears welled up in Rostov’s eyes. Princess Marya noticed it and looked at Rostov gratefully, with that luminous gaze which made one forget the plainness of her face.
“I cannot express to you, Princess, how happy I am that I have come here accidentally and will be in a position to show you my readiness,” Rostov said, getting up. “Go, please, and I will answer to you on my honor that not a single person will dare cause you any trouble, if only you will allow me to escort you,” and, bowing respectfully, as one bows to a lady of royal blood, he went to the door.
With the respectfulness of his tone, Rostov seemed to be showing that, though he would consider himself fortunate to make her acquaintance, he did not want to use the occasion of her misfortune to become closer to her.
Princess Marya understood and appreciated that tone.
“I am very, very grateful to you,” the princess said to him in French, “but I hope it was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it.” The princess suddenly began to cry. “Excuse me,” she said.
Rostov frowned, gave her one more low bow, and left the room.
XIV
“Well, what, is she pretty? No, brother, my pink one’s lovely, and her name is Dunyasha…” But, glancing at Rostov’s face, Ilyin fell silent. He saw that his hero and commander was in quite a different frame of mind.
Rostov gave Ilyin an angry look and, without replying, headed at a quick pace for the village.
“I’ll show them, I’ll give it to them, the brigands!” he was saying to himself.
Alpatych, gliding along, all but running, followed behind Rostov, barely keeping up with him.
“What decision have you been pleased to take?” he asked, catching up with him.
Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly turned on Alpatych threateningly.
“Decision? What decision? You old cod!” he yelled at him. “Where were you looking? Eh? The muzhiks are rebellious, and you can’t handle them? You’re a traitor yourself. I know you all, I’ll have your hides…” And, as if fearing to expend his store of anger uselessly, he left Alpatych and quickly went on. Alpatych, suppressing his offended feeling, glided hurriedly after Rostov, and went on telling him his reflections. He said that the peasants were obdurate, that at the present moment it was not sensible to antagonorize them, with no military detachment around, that it would be better to send for a detachment first.
“I’ll give them an army detachment…I’ll antagonize them,” Nikolai muttered senselessly, choking with unreasonable animal anger and the need to vent that anger. Without considering what he was going to do, unconsciously, at a quick, resolute pace, he moved towards the crowd. And the closer he came to it, the more Alpatych felt that his unreasonable action might produce good results. The muzhiks in the crowd had the same feeling, looking at his quick and firm stride and resolute, frowning face.
After the hussars rode into the village and Rostov went to the princess, confusion and discord arose in the crowd. Some of the muzhiks began to say that the men who had come were Russian and might take offense that the young lady was not allowed to leave. Dron was of the same opinion; but as soon as he expressed it, Karp and some other muzhiks fell upon the former headman.
“How many years have you been feeding off the community?” Karp yelled at him. “It’s all the same to you! You