War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [556]
In the course of those three days that preceded the capture of Moscow, the whole Rostov family found themselves bustling in various ways. The head of the family, Count Ilya Andreich, constantly drove around town gathering the rumors that came from all sides, and at home gave generally superficial and hasty instructions about preparing for departure.
The countess supervised the storing of things, was displeased with everything, and followed after Petya, who was constantly running away from her, jealous of Natasha over him, because he spent all his time with her. Sonya alone saw to the practical side of the matter: the packing of things. But Sonya had been especially sad and taciturn all the time recently. Nicolas’s letter, in which he mentioned Princess Marya, had provoked the countess into talking joyfully in Sonya’s presence about seeing God’s providence in the meeting of Marya and Nicolas.
“I was never glad,” said the countess, “when Bolkonsky was Natasha’s fiancé, but I have always wished, and have a presentiment, that Nikolenka would marry the princess. And what a good thing it would be!”
Sonya felt that that was true, that the only possibility of mending the Rostovs’ affairs was marriage to a rich girl, and the princess was a good match. But she felt very bitter. In spite of her grief, or maybe precisely because of it, she took upon herself all the difficulties of arranging for the storing and packing of things and was busy all day long. The count and countess turned to her when they needed to give some order. Petya and Natasha, on the contrary, not only did not help their parents, but mostly pestered and hindered everyone in the house. And for almost the whole day their running, shouting, and causeless laughter were heard in the house. They laughed and made merry not at all because there was any reason for laughter; but their souls were filled with joy and mirth because for them everything that happened was a cause of joy and laughter. Petya was merry because, having left home a boy, he had returned (so everyone told him) a fine man; he was merry because he was at home, because from Belaya Tserkov, where there was no hope of getting into battle, he had ended up in Moscow, where there would be fighting any day; and above all he was merry because Natasha, whose moods he was always subject to, was merry. Natasha was merry because she had been sad for too long, and now nothing reminded her of the cause of her sadness, and she was in good health. She was also merry because there was a person who admired her (the admiration of others was that grease for the wheels which was necessary if her machine was to run perfectly freely), and Petya admired her. And above all they were merry because there was war near Moscow, there would be fighting at the city gates, weapons were being distributed, everyone was fleeing, going somewhere, and in general something extraordinary was happening, which is always joyful for a person, especially a young one.
XIII
On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the Rostovs’ house seemed turned upside down. All the doors were open, all the furniture had been taken out or moved around, the mirrors and paintings had been taken down. There were trunks in the rooms; straw, wrapping paper, and string lay about. Muzhiks and servants, carrying things out, tramped heavily over the parquet floors. The courtyard was crowded with peasant carts, some already filled to the top and tied up, some still empty.
The voices and footsteps of the huge number of servants and of the muzhiks coming with carts rang out, calling to each other in the courtyard and the house. The count had been away somewhere since morning. The countess, who had a headache from the fuss and noise, lay in the new sitting room, her head wrapped in a cloth with vinegar. Petya was not at home (he had