第414章

第414章“howarewetopackupandgowithourbusiness？”saidferapontov.“sevenroublestopayforcartagetodorogobuzh.whatisayis：theyhavenoconscience！”saidhe.“selivanov,hedidagoodturnonfriday,soldflourtothearmyfornineroublesthesack.whatdoyousaytosometea？”headded.whilethehorseswerebeingharnessed,alpatitchandferapontovdrankteaanddiscussedthepriceofcorn,thecrops,andthefavourableweatherfortheharvest.

“it’sgettingquieterthough,”saidferapontov,gettingupafterdrinkingthreecupsoftea.“isuppose,oursidehasgotthebestofit.it’sbeensaidtheywon’tletthemin.sowe’reinforceitseems.…theotherdaytheyweresayingmatveyivanitchplatovdrovethemintotherivermarina：eighteenthousandofthemhedrownedinoneday.”

alpatitchgathereduphispurchases,handedthemtothecoachman,andsettledhisaccountswithferapontov.therewasthesoundofwheelsandhoofsandtheringingofbellsasthegigdroveoutofthegates.

itwasbynowlongpastmidday,halfthestreetlayinshadow,whilehalfwasinbrilliantsunshine.alpatitchglancedoutofthewindowandwenttothedoor.allofasuddentherecameastrangesoundofafarawayhissandthump,followedbytheboomofcannons,minglingintoadimroarthatsetthewindowsrattling.

alpatitchwentoutintothestreet;twomenwererunningalongthestreettowardsthebridge.fromdifferentsidescamethehissandthudofcannonballsandtheburstingofgrenades,astheyfellinthetown.butthesesoundswerealmostunheard,andtheinhabitantsscarcelynoticedthem,incomparisonwiththeboomofthecannonstheyheardbeyondthetown.itwasthebombardment,whichnapoleonhadorderedtobeopeneduponthetownatfouro’clockfromonehundredandthirtycannons.thepeopledidnotatfirstgraspthemeaningofthisbombardment.

thesoundsofthedroppinggrenadesandcannonballsatfirstonlyexcitedthecuriosityofthepeople.ferapontov’swife,whohadtillthenbeenwailingintheshed,ceased,andwiththebabyinherarmswentouttothegate,staringinsilenceatthepeople,andlisteningtothesounds.

thecookandshopmancameouttothegate.allofthemweretryingwitheagercuriositytogetaglimpseoftheprojectilesastheyflewovertheirheads.severalpersonscameroundthecornerineagerconversation.

“whatforce！”onewassaying;“roofandceilingweresmasheduptosplinters.”

“likeapigroutingintotheearth,itwent！”saidanother.

“isn’titfirst-rate？wakesoneup！”hesaidlaughing.

“it’saswellyouskippedawayoritwouldhaveflattenedyouout.”

othersjoinedthisgroup.theystoppedanddescribedhowacannonballhaddroppedonahouseclosetothem.meanwhileotherprojectiles—nowacannonball,withrapid,ominoushiss,andnowagrenadewithapleasantwhistle—flewincessantlyoverthepeople’sheads：butnotonefellclose,allofthemflewover.alpatitchgotintohisgig.ferapontovwasstandingatthegate.

“willyouneverhavedonegaping！”heshoutedtothecook,whoinherredpetticoat,withhersleevestuckedupandherbareelbowsswinging,hadsteppedtothecornertolistentowhatwasbeingsaid.

“awonderitis！”shewassaying,buthearinghermaster’svoice,shecameback,pullingdownhertucked-upskirt.

againsomethinghissed,butveryclosethistime,likeabirdswoopingdown;therewasaflashoffireinthemiddleofthestreet,thesoundofashot,andthestreetwasfilledwithsmoke.

“scoundrel,whatareyouabout？”shoutedferapontov,runninguptothecook.

atthesameinstantthereroseapiteouswailingfromthewomen;thebabysetupaterrifiedhowling,andthepeoplecrowdedwithpalefacesroundthecook.abovethemallroseoutofthecrowdthemoansandcriesofthecook.

“o-o-oy,goodkindsouls,blessedfriends！don’tletmedie！goodkindsouls！…”

fiveminuteslaternoonewasleftinthestreet.thecook,withherlegbrokenbytheburstinggrenade,hadbeencarriedintothekitchen.alpatitch,hiscoachman,ferapontov’swifeandchildrenandtheporterweresittinginthecellarlistening.thethunderofthecannon,thehissoftheballs,andthepiteousmoaningofthecook,whichroseaboveallthenoise,neverceasedforaninstant.ferapontov’swifealternatelydandledandsoothedherbaby,andaskedinafrightenedwhisperofeveryonewhocameintothecellarwherewasherhusband,whohadremainedinthestreet.theshopmantoldherthemasterhadgonewiththecrowdtothecathedral,wheretheywereraisingonhighthewonder-working,holypictureofsmolensk.

towardsduskthecannonadebegantosubside.alpatitchcameoutofthecellarandstoodinthedoorway.

thecleareveningskywasallovercastwithsmoke.andanewcrescentmoonlookedstrange,shininghighupinthesky,throughthatsmoke.aftertheterriblethunderofthecannonshadceased,ahushseemedtohangoverthetown,brokenonlybythefootsteps,whichseemedalloverthetown,thesoundofgroansanddistantshouts,andthecrackleoffires.thecook’smoanshadceasednow.ontwosidesblackcloudsofsmokefromfiresroseupanddriftedaway.soldiersindifferentuniformswalkedandranaboutthestreetsindifferentdirections,notinranks,butlikeantsoutofadisturbedantheap.severalofthemraninferapontov’syardbeforealpatitch’seyes.hewentouttothegate.aregiment,crowdedandhurrying,blockedupthestreet,goingback.

“thetown’ssurrendered;getaway,getaway,”saidanofficernoticinghisfigure;andturningimmediatelytothesoldiers,heshouted,“i’llteachyoutorunthroughtheyards！”