第517章

第517章theoldcoachmanefim,theonlyonewhomthecountesscouldtrusttodriveher,satpercheduponthebox,anddidnotevenlookroundatwhatwaspassingbehindhim.histhirtyyears’experiencehadtaughthimthatitwouldbesometimeyetbeforetheywouldsay,“now,ingod’sname,start！”andthatwhentheyhadsaidit,theywouldstophimatleasttwiceagaintosendbackforthingsthathadbeenforgotten;andafterthathewouldhavetopulluponcemoreforthecountessherselftoputherheadoutofwindowandbeghim,forchrist’ssake,todrivecarefullydownhill.heknewthis,andthereforeawaitedwhatwastocomewithmorepatiencethanhishorses,especiallytheleftone,thechestnutfalcon,whowascontinuallypawingthegroundandchampingatthebit.atlastallwereseated;thecarriagestepswerepulledup,andthedoorslammed,andtheforgottentravelling-casehadbeensentforandthecountesshadpoppedherheadoutandgiventheusualinjunctions.thenefimdeliberatelytookhishatoffandbegancrossinghimself.thepostillionandalltheservantsdidthesame.

“withgod’sblessing！”saidefim,puttinghishaton.“off！”thepostillionstartedhishorse.theright-shafthorsebegantopull,thehighspringscreaked,andthecarriageswayed.thefootmanjumpedupontheboxwhileitwasmoving.thecarriagejoltedasitdroveoutoftheyardontotheunevenpavement;theothervehiclesjoltedinthesamewayastheyfollowedinaprocessionupthestreet.alltheoccupantsofthecarriages,thecoachandthecoveredgig,crossedthemselvesonseeingthechurchopposite.theservants,whowerestayinginmoscow,walkedalongonbothsidesofthecarriagestoseethemoff.

natashahadrarelyfeltsuchajoyfulsensationassheexperiencedatthatmomentsittinginthecarriagebythecountessandwatching,astheyslowlymovedbyher,thewallsofforsaken,agitatedmoscow.nowandthensheputherheadoutofthecarriagewindowandlookedback,andtheninfrontofthelongtrainofonsfullofwoundedsoldiersprecedingthem.foremostofthemallshecouldseeprinceandrey’sclosedcarriage.shedidnotknowwhowasinit,andeverytimeshetookstockoftheprocessionofonsshelookedoutforthatcoach.sheknewitwouldbetheforemost.inkudrinoandfromnikitskystreet,frompryesny,andfrompodnovinskyseveraltrainsofvehicles,similartotherostovs’,camedrivingout,andbythetimetheyreachedsadovoystreetthecarriagesandcartsweretwodeepallalongtheroad.

astheyturnedroundsuharevtower,natasha,whowasquicklyandinquisitivelyscrutinisingthecrowddrivingandwalkingby,utteredacryofdelightandsurprise：

“goodheavens！mamma,sonya,look;it’she！”

“who？who？”

“look,dolook！bezuhov,”saidnatasha,puttingherheadoutofthecarriagewindowandstaringatatall,stoutmaninacoachman’slongcoat,obviouslyagentlemandisguised,fromhiscarriageandgait.hewaspassingunderthearchofthesuharevtowerbesideayellow-looking,beardless,littleoldmaninafriezecloak.

“onlyfancy！bezuhovinacoachman’scoat,withaqueersortofold-lookingboy,”saidnatasha.“dolook;dolook！”

“no,it’snothe.howcanyoubesoabsurd！”

“mamma,”criednatasha.“onmywordofhonour,iassureyou,itishe.stop,stop,”sheshoutedtothecoachman;butthecoachmancouldnotstop,becausemorecartsandcarriageswerecomingoutofmyeshtchanskystreet,andpeoplewereshoutingattherostovstomoveon,andnottokeeptherestofthetrafficwaiting.

alltherostovsdid,however,thoughnowatamuchgreaterdistance,seepierre,oramanextraordinarilylikehim,wearingacoachman’scoat,andwalkingalongthestreetwithbentheadandaseriousfacebesidealittle,beardlessoldman,wholookedlikeafootman.thisoldmannoticedafacepokedoutofthecarriagewindowstaringatthem,andrespectfullytouchingpierre’selbow,hesaidsomethingtohim,pointingtowardsthecarriage.itwassometimebeforepierreunderstoodwhathewassaying;hewasevidentlydeeplyabsorbedinhisownthoughts.atlasthelookedinthedirectionindicated,andrecognisingnatasha,hemovedinstantlytowardsthecarriage,asthoughyieldingtothefirstimpulse.butaftertakingadozenstepstowardsit,hestoppedshort,apparentlyrecollectingsomething.natasha’sheadbeamedoutofthecarriagewindowwithfriendlymockery.

“pyotrkirillitch,comehere！werecognizedyou,yousee！it’sawonder！”shecried,stretchingoutahandtohim.“howisit？whyareyoulikethis？”

pierretookheroutstretchedhand,andawkwardlykisseditasheranbesidethestillmovingcarriage.

“whathashappened,count？”thecountessaskedhim,inasurprisedandcommiseratingtone.

“eh？why？don’taskme,”saidpierre,andhelookedupatnatasha,thecharmofwhoseradiant,joyouseyeshefeltuponhimwithoutlookingather.

“whatareyoudoing,orareyoustayinginmoscow？”

pierrewassilent.

“inmoscow？”hequeried.“yes,inmoscow.good-bye.”

“oh,howiwishiwereaman,iwouldstaywithyou.ah,howsplendidthatis！”saidnatasha.“mamma,doletmestay.”

pierrelookedabsentlyatnatasha,andwasabouttosaysomething,butthecountessinterruptedhim.

“youwereatthebattle,wehavebeentold.”

“yes,iwasthere,”answeredpierre.“to-morrowtherewillbeabattleagain…”hewasbeginning,butnatashainterposed：

“butwhatisthematter,count？youarenotlikeyourself…”

“oh,don’taskme,don’taskme,idon’tknowmyself.to-morrow…no！good-bye;good-bye,”hesaid;“it’sanawfultime！”andheleftthecarriageandwalkedawaytothepavement.

foralongwhilenatasha’sheadwasstillthrustoutofthecarriagewindow,andshebeamedathimwithakindlyandrathermocking,joyoussmile.