第167章

第167章“ah,myboy！myhead’sinawhirl,”saidtheoldgentleman,withasomewhatshamefacedsmileathisson.“youmightcometomyaid！wehavestillthesingerstoget,yousee.themusicisallsettled,butshouldn’tweordersomegypsysingers？youmilitarygentlemenarefondofthatsortofthing.”

“uponmyword,papa,idobelievethatprincebagrationmadelessfussovergettingreadyforthebattleofsch？ngrabenthanyouaremakingnow,”saidhisson,smiling.

theoldcountpretendedtobeangry.

“well,youtalk,youtry！”andthecountturnedtothecook,whowithashrewdandrespectfulfacelookedobservantlyandsympatheticallyfromfathertoson.

“whataretheyoungpeoplecomingto,eh,feoktista？”saidhe;“theylaughatusoldfellows！”

“tobesure,yourexcellency,alltheyhavetodoistoeatagooddinner,buttoarrangeitallandserveitup,that’snoaffairoftheirs！”

“true,true！”criedthecount;andgailyseizinghissonbybothhands,hecried：“doyouknownowi’vegotholdofyou！takeasledgeandpairthisminuteanddriveofftobezuhov,andsaythatcountilyaandreivitchhassent,say,toaskhimforstrawberriesandfreshpineapples.there’snogettingthemfromanyoneelse.ifhe’snotathomehimself,yougoinandgivethemessagetotheprincesses;and,isay,fromthereyoudriveofftothegaiety—ipatkathecoachmanknowstheplace—andlookupilyushkathere,thegypsywhodancedatcountorlov’s,doyouremember,inawhitecossackdress,andbringhimheretome.”

“andbringhisgypsygirlsherewithhim？”askednikolay,laughing.

“come,come！…”

atthismomentannamihalovnasteppednoiselesslyintotheroomwiththatairofchristianmeekness,mingledwithpracticalandanxiousupation,thatneverleftherface.althoughannamihalovnacameuponthecountinhisdressing-gowneveryday,hewasinvariablydisconcertedatherdoingso,andapologisedforhiscostume.

“don’tmentionit,mydearcount,”shesaid,closinghereyesmeekly.“iamjustgoingtoseebezuhov,”shesaid.“youngbezuhovhasarrived,andnowweshallgetallwewant,count,fromhisgreenhouses.iwaswantingtoseehimonmyownaccount,too.hehasforwardedmealetterfromboris.thankgod,borisisnowonthestaff.”

thecountwasoverjoyedatannamihalovna’sundertakingonepartofhiscommissions,andgaveordersforthecarriagetobebroughtroundforher.

“tellbezuhovtocome.i’llputhisnamedown.broughthiswifewithhim？”heasked.

annamihalovnaturneduphereyes,andanexpressionofprofoundsadnesscameintoherface.

“ah,mydear,he’sveryunhappy,”shesaid.“ifit’struewhatwehavebeenhearing,it’sawful.howlittledidwethinkofthiswhenwewererejoicinginhappiness！andsuchalofty,angelicnature,thatyoungbezuhov！yes,ipityhimfrommysoul,andwilldomyutmosttogivehimanyconsolationinmypower.”

“why,whatisthematter？”inquiredboththerostovs,youngandoldtogether.

annamihalovnaheavedadeepsigh.

“dolohov,maryaivanovna’sson,”shesaidinamysteriouswhisper,“has,theysay,utterlycompromisedher.hebroughthimforward,invitedhimtohishouseinpetersburg,andnowthis！…shehascomehere,andthatscapegracehascomeafterher,”saidannamihalovna.shewishedtoexpressnothingbutsympathywithpierre,butinherinvoluntaryintonationsandhalfsmile,shebetrayedhersympathywiththescapegrace,asshecalleddolohov.“pierrehimself,theysay,isutterlycrushedbyhistrouble.”

“well,anyway,tellhimtocometotheclub—itwilldiverthismind.itwillbeabanquetonagrandscale.”

onthenextday,the3rdofmarch,atabouttwointheafternoon,thetwohundredandfiftymembersoftheenglishclubandfiftyoftheirguestswereawaitingthearrivaloftheirhonouredguest,theherooftheaustriancampaign,princebagration.