War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [9]
“Ah, don’t speak to me of Austria! Maybe I don’t understand anything, but Austria does not want and has never wanted war. She’s betraying us.3 Russia alone must be the savior of Europe. Our benefactor knows his lofty calling and will be faithful to it. That is the one thing I trust in. Our kind and wonderful sovereign is faced with the greatest role in the world, and he is so virtuous and good that God will not abandon him, and he will fulfill his calling to crush the hydra of revolution, which has now become still more terrible in the person of this murderer and villain. We alone must redeem the blood of the righteous one.4 In whom can we trust, I ask you?…England with her commercial spirit will not and cannot understand all the loftiness of the emperor Alexander’s soul. She refused to evacuate Malta.5 She wants to see, she searches for ulterior motives in our acts. What did they say to Novosiltsov? Nothing. They did not, they could not understand the self-denial of our emperor, who wants nothing for himself and everything for the good of the world. And what have they promised? Nothing. And what they did promise will not be done! Prussia has already declared that Bonaparte is invincible and that all Europe can do nothing against him…And I don’t believe a single word of Hardenberg or of Haugwitz.6 Cette fameuse neutralité prussienne, ce n’est qu’un piège.*9 I trust only in God and in the lofty destiny of our dear emperor. He will save Europe!…” She suddenly stopped with a mocking smile at her own vehemence.
“I think,” the prince said, smiling, “that if they sent you instead of our dear Wintzingerode, you would take the Prussian king’s consent by storm.7 You’re so eloquent! Will you give me tea?”
“At once. À propos,” she added, calming down again, “I’ll have two very interesting men here tonight, le vicomte de Mortemart, il est allié aux Montmorency par les Rohan,†10 one of the best French families. He’s one of the good émigrés,8 one of the real ones. And then l’abbé Morio‡11 —do you know that profound mind? He’s been received by the sovereign. Do you know him?”
“Ah! I’ll be very glad,” said the prince. “Tell me,” he added, as if just recalling something and with special casualness, though what he asked about was the main purpose of his visit, “is it true that l’impératrice-mère§12 wants Baron Funke to be named first secretary in Vienna? C’est un pauvre sire, ce baron, à ce qu’il paraît.”#13 Prince Vassily wanted his son to be appointed to this post, which, through the empress Maria Feodorovna, had been solicited for the baron.
Anna Pavlovna all but closed her eyes as a sign that neither she nor anyone else could judge of the empress’s good pleasure or liking.
“Monsieur le baron de Funke a été recommandé à l’impératrice-mère par sa soeur,”**14 she merely said in a sad, dry tone. The moment Anna Pavlovna mentioned the empress, her face suddenly presented a profound and sincere expression of devotion and respect, combined with sadness, which happened each time she referred to her exalted patroness in conversation. She said that her majesty had deigned to show Baron Funke beaucoup d’estime,*15 and her eyes again clouded over with sadness.
The prince lapsed into indifferent silence. Anna Pavlovna, with her courtly and feminine adroitness and ready tact, wanted both to swat the prince for daring to make such a pronouncement about a person recommended to the empress, and at the same time to comfort him.
“Mais à propos de votre famille,” she said, “do you know that your daughter, since her coming out, fait les délices de tout le monde? On la trouve belle, comme le jour.”†16
The prince bowed in a sign of respect and gratitude.
“I often think,” Anna Pavlovna went on after a moment’s silence, moving closer to the prince and smiling tenderly at him, as if to show thereby that the political and social conversations were at an end and a heart-to-heart one was beginning, “I often think how unfairly life’s good fortune is sometimes distributed. Why has fate given you two such nice children (excluding Anatole, your