War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [86]
“Who is it? You gave the order yourself. The sergeant major’s come for money.”
Denisov winced, was about to shout something, but kept silent.
“Rotten business,” he said to himself. “How much money was left in the purse?” he asked Rostov.
“Seven new and three old.”
“Ah, rot! Well, what are you standing there for, scarecrow, off to the sergeant major,” Denisov shouted at Lavrushka.
“Please, Denisov, take money from me, I’ve got it,” Rostov said, blushing.
“I don’t like getting friends involved, no, I don’t,” Denisov muttered.
“If you won’t take money from me as a friend, you’ll offend me. I really have got it,” Rostov repeated.
“No, no, I won’t.”
And Denisov went to the bed to take his purse from under the pillow.
“Where’d you put it, Rostov?”
“Under the bottom pillow.”
“It’s not there.”
Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there.
“That’s odd!”
“Wait, maybe you dropped it?” said Rostov, picking up first one pillow, then the other, and shaking them.
He tore off the blanket and shook it. The purse was not there.
“Maybe I forgot? No, I thought then that it was as if you were hiding a treasure under your head,” said Rostov. “I put the purse there. Where is it?” he turned to Lavrushka.
“I didn’t come in. It should be wherever you put it.”
“But it’s not.”
“It’s always that way, you toss something somewhere and then forget. Look in your pockets.”
“No, maybe if I hadn’t thought about the treasure,” said Rostov, “but I remember putting it there.”
Lavrushka rummaged through the whole bed, looked under it, looked under the table, rummaged about everywhere, and stopped in the middle of the room. Denisov silently followed Lavrushka’s movements, and when Lavrushka spread his arms in surprise, saying it was not to be found anywhere, he looked at Rostov.
“Rostov, you’re not a prankst…”
Rostov felt Denisov’s gaze on him, raised his eyes, and instantly lowered them. All the blood he had locked up somewhere under his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could scarcely breathe.
“There was nobody in the room except the lieutenant and you. It’s here somewhere,” said Lavrushka.
“Ah, you devil’s puppet, stir your stumps, get looking,” Denisov shouted suddenly, turning purple and hurling himself at the lackey with a menacing gesture. “There’ll be a purse, or I’ll flog you to death. I’ll flog you all to death!”
Rostov, avoiding Denisov’s eyes, began to button his jacket, buckled on his saber, and put on his peaked cap.
“I tell you, there’ll be a purse,” Denisov shouted, shaking the orderly by the shoulder and pushing him against the wall.
“Denisov, leave him alone; I know who took it,” said Rostov, approaching the door and not raising his eyes.
Denisov paused, reflected, and, evidently realizing what Rostov was alluding to, seized his arm.
“Rubbish!” he shouted so that the veins swelled like ropes on his neck and forehead. “You’ve lost your mind, I tell you, I won’t stand for it. The purse is here; I’ll skin this scoundrel alive, and it will be here.”
“I know who took it,” Rostov repeated in a trembling voice, going to the door.
“And I tell you, don’t you dare do that,” cried Denisov, rushing at the junker to hold him back.
But Rostov tore his arm free and, with as much spite as if Denisov was his greatest enemy, directly and firmly fixed his eyes on him.
“Do you realize what you’re saying?” he said in a trembling voice. “Besides me, there was no one else in the room. Which means, if that’s not it, then…”
He was unable to finish and ran out of the room.
“Ah, the devil take you and all the rest of them” were the last words Rostov heard.
Rostov went to Telyanin’s quarters.
“The master’s not at home, he’s gone to the staff,” Telyanin’s orderly told him. “Has something happened?” the orderly added, surprised to see the junker’s upset face.
“No, nothing.”
“You just missed him,” said the orderly.
The staff was quartered