________________________________________________
_ The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is,
till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city.
After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for
Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was
seized with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war,
had both gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or
both of them might be killed like the three sons of one of her
acquaintances, struck her that summer for the first time with cruel
clearness. She tried to get Nicholas back and wished to go herself
to join Petya, or to get him an appointment somewhere in Petersburg,
but neither of these proved possible. Petya could not return unless
his regiment did so or unless he was transferred to another regiment
on active service. Nicholas was somewhere with the army and had not
sent a word since his last letter, in which he had given a detailed
account of his meeting with Princess Mary. The countess did not
sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep dreamed that she saw her
sons lying dead. After many consultations and conversations, the count
at last devised means to tranquillize her. He got Petya transferred
from Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was in training near
Moscow. Though Petya would remain in the service, this transfer
would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one of
her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her
Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to
places where he could not possibly take part in a battle. As long as
Nicholas alone was in danger the countess imagined that she loved
her first-born more than all her other children and even reproached
herself for it; but when her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad
at lessons, was always breaking things in the house and making himself
a nuisance to everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black
eyes and fresh rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show-
when he was thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were
fighting somewhere about something and apparently finding pleasure
in it- then his mother thought she loved him more, much more, than all
her other children. The nearer the time came for Petya to return,
the more uneasy grew the countess. She began to think she would
never live to see such happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her
beloved Natasha, or even of her husband irritated her. "What do I want
with them? I want no one but Petya," she thought.
At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from
Nicholas. He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been
sent to procure remounts, but that letter did not set the countess
at ease. Knowing that one son was out of danger she became the more
anxious about Petya.
Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs'
acquaintances had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to
persuade the countess to get away as quickly as possible, she would
not bear of leaving before her treasure, her adored Petya, returned.
On the twenty-eighth of August he arrived. The passionate tenderness
with which his mother received him did not please the sixteen-year-old
officer. Though she concealed from him her intention of keeping him
under her wing, Petya guessed her designs, and instinctively fearing
that he might give way to emotion when with her- might "become
womanish" as he termed it to himself- he treated her coldly, avoided
her, and during his stay in Moscow attached himself exclusively to
Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly brotherly
tenderness, almost lover-like.
Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for
their departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were
to come from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household
belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth.
From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a
bustle and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino
were brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts
of Moscow, and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their
possessions out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's
broadsheets, or because of them or independently of them, the
strangest and most contradictory rumors were current in the town. Some
said that no one was to be allowed to leave the city, others on the
contrary said that all the icons had been taken out of the churches
and everybody was to be ordered to leave. Some said there had been
another battle after Borodino at which the French had been routed,
while others on the contrary reported that the Russian army bad been
destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia which, preceded by the
clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others whispered that Augustin
had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had been seized, that the
peasants were rioting and robbing people on their way from Moscow, and
so on. But all this was only talk; in reality (though the Council of
Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow, had not yet been
held) both those who went away and those who remained behind felt,
though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be abandoned,
and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and save
their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break
up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so.
As a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die
immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is
awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life,
though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the
conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would
be completely upset.
During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole
Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the
family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting
the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty
orders at home about the preparations for their departure.
The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied
with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always
running away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent
all his time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by
getting things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and
silent. Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had
elicited, in her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who
saw an intervention of Providence in this meeting of the princess
and Nicholas.
"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the
countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had
a presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!"
Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of
retrieving the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman,
and that the princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her.
But despite her grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on
herself all the difficult work of directing the storing and packing of
their things and was busy for whole days. The count and countess
turned to her when they had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on
the contrary, far from helping their parents, were generally a
nuisance and a hindrance to everyone. Almost all day long the house
resounded with their running feet, their cries, and their
spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were gay not because there
was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and mirth were in their
hearts and so everything that happened was a cause for gaiety and
laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because having left home a
boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine young man,
because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov where there
was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to Moscow
where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because
Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha
was gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her
of the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was
also happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of
others was a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them
run freely- and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because
there was a war near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town
gates, arms were being given out, everybody was escaping- going away
somewhere, and in general something extraordinary was happening, and
that is always exciting, especially to the young. _
Read next: Book Eleven: 1812: Chapter 13
Read previous: Book Eleven: 1812: Chapter 11
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