War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [559]
“Wait, Sonya, we’ll be able to fit everything in,” said Natasha.
“It’s impossible, miss, we’ve already tried,” said the pantryman.
“No, please wait.” And Natasha began taking the dishes and plates wrapped in paper out of the crate.
“The dishes ought to be put in here with the carpets,” she said.
“We’ll be lucky if we get the carpets into three crates as it is,” said the pantryman.
“Wait, please.” And Natasha quickly, deftly began sorting things. “Those we don’t need,” she said of the Kievan plates. “These, yes, these go in with the carpets,” she said of the Saxony dishes.
“Let it be, Natasha. Enough, now, we’ll pack,” Sonya said with reproach.
“Eh, miss!” said the butler. But Natasha did not give in, threw all the things out, and quickly began repacking, deciding that the inferior domestic carpets and extra dishes should not be taken at all. When everything had been taken out, they began packing again. And indeed, having discarded almost all the cheap things that were not worth taking along, they fitted all the costly things into two crates. Only the lid of the carpet crate would not close. A few things could have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on having her way. She packed and repacked, pressed down, made the pantryman and Petya, whom she drew into the business of packing, press down on the lid, and made desperate efforts herself.
“Enough, Natasha,” Sonya said to her. “I see you’re right, just take out the one on top.”
“I don’t want to,” cried Natasha, holding her loosened hair away from her sweaty face with one hand and pressing down on the carpets with the other. “Press on it, Petka, press on it! Vassilyich, press down on it!” she cried. The carpets got pressed down and the lid closed. Natasha clapped her hands and squealed with joy, and tears burst from her eyes. But that lasted only a second. She at once took up another task, and now they trusted her fully, and the count was not angry when he was told that Natalya Ilyinichna had cancelled his order, and the servants came to Natasha to ask if they should tie up a cart or not, and was it sufficiently loaded? The work went swimmingly owing to Natasha’s directions: the unnecessary things were left and the most costly ones were packed in as tightly as possible.
But however everyone bustled, by late at night they could not get everything packed. The countess fell asleep, and the count, having postponed their departure till morning, went to bed.
Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing.
That night one more wounded man was transported down Povarskaya, and Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing at the gate, had him turn in at the Rostovs’. This wounded man was, to Mavra Kuzminishna’s mind, a very important one. He was being transported in a caleche with the apron completely closed and the hood down. On the box beside the driver sat an old man, a venerable valet. A doctor and two soldiers followed behind in a wagon.
“Do come to us, if you please. The masters are leaving, the whole house is empty,” said the old woman, addressing the old servant.
“Why not,” the valet answered, sighing, “we don’t hope to make it! We have our own house in Moscow, but it’s far, and there’s nobody living there.”
“Kindly come in, our masters have plenty of everything, if you please,” said Mavra Kuzminishna. “What, is he very unwell?” she added.
The valet waved his hand.
“We don’t hope to make it! You must ask the doctor.” And the valet got down from the box and went to the wagon.
“All right,” said the doctor.
The valet came back to the caleche, looked into it, shook his head,