e. Where's it gone?' He turned to Lavrushka.
'I was never in the room. It must be where you put it.'
'Well, it isn't.'
'That's you all over, thwowing things about and forgetting where they are. Look in your pockets.'
'No, if I hadn't thought of it like a secret treasure . . .' said Rostov, 'but I do remember where I put it.'
Lavrushka rummaged through the whole bed, looked underneath it and under the table, rummaged through the entire room and then stood still in the middle of it. Denisov followed Lavrushka's movements in silence, and when Lavrushka spread his hands in amazement to show that it was nowhere to be found, he looked round at Rostov.
'Wostov, is this one of your widiculous schoolboy jokes?'
Rostov could sense Denisov glaring at him; he glanced up and then rapidly down again. All the blood in his body seemed to have been blocked somewhere just below the throat, and it rushed to his face and eyes. He could hardly get his breath.
'And no one's been in the room, nobbut the lieutenant and yourselves. It's got to be here somewhere,' said Lavrushka.
'Wight then, damn you. Move yourself! Find it!' Denisov yelled suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the valet with a menacing gesture. 'Find that purse, or I'll have you flogged! The lot of you!'
Studiously avoiding Denisov's eyes, Rostov began buttoning up his jacket, fastening on his sword and putting on his cap.
'I'm telling you that pocket-book has got to be here!' roared Denisov, shaking the orderly by the shoulders and banging him against the wall.
'Denisov, leave him alone. I know who's taken it,' said Rostov, heading for the door without looking up.
Denisov paused, thought for a moment and seemed to get Rostov's drift. He seized him by the arm.
'Oh, wubbish, Wostov!' he roared, the veins standing out like cords on his neck and forehead. 'I'm telling you, you're cwazy. No, I won't let you . . . That pocket-book is here somewhere. I'll flay this wogue alive, then it'll turn up.'
'I know who has taken it,' repeated Rostov, in a tremulous voice, and went to the door.
'And I'm telling you - don't you dare . . .' cried Denisov, hurtling after the ensign to hold him back. But Rostov freed his arm, looked up straight into his eyes and glared at Denisov with the kind of fury you reserve for your worst enemy.
'Do you know what you're saying?' he said in a quavering voice. 'I'm the only person who's been in that room. So, if it's not there, you think . . .'
Lost for words, he fled from the room.
'Oh, damn you! And all the west of you!' were the last words Rostov heard.
Rostov went over to Telyanin's quarters.
'The master's not in, he's gone over to HQ,' Telyanin's orderly told him. 'Has something happened?' the orderly added, taken aback by the ensign's worried face.
'No, nothing's happened.'
'You've only just missed him,' said the orderly.
The headquarters were nearly two miles from Salzeneck. Rostov took his horse and rode there without calling in at his own quarters. In the village which the staff had taken over there was an inn much frequented by the officers. Rostov went there. Telyanin's horse was at the door.
In the second room the lieutenant was sitting at a table with a dish of sausage and a bottle of wine before him.
'Oh, so you've come here too, young man,' he said, smiling and raising his eyebrows.
'Yes, I have.' Rostov seemed to force the words out with a great effort. He sat down at the next table.
Neither man spoke. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in the room. Silence reigned, the only sounds being the scraping of knives on plates and the lieutenant munching away. When Telyanin had finished his meal, he took out a double-sided purse, parted the rings with the curved tips of his tiny white fingers, took out a gold coin, raised his eyebrows and handed the money to the waiter.
'I'd be glad if you would hurry,' he said.
It was a new gold coin. Rostov got up and went over to Telyanin.
'Please let me look at that purse,' he said, his voice barely audible.
With shifty eyes, and eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed over the purse.
'Nice little purse, isn't it? Yes, yes,' he said, suddenly turning white. 'Do have a look at it, young man,' he added.
Rostov took hold of the purse and examined it, also checking the money inside, and he stared at Telyanin. The lieutenant let his eyes wander around everywhere, as he always did, and suddenly he seemed remarkably cheerful.
'If we get to Vienna, I suppose I shall leave it all there, but just now there's nothing to buy in these ghastly little places,' he said. 'So, let me have it back, young man, and I'll be on my way.'
Rostov said nothing.
'What are you going to do, then? Are you lunching too? They do a decent meal,' Telyanin went on. 'Please could I have it back?'
He put out his hand and took hold of the purse. Rostov let go of it. Telyanin took the purse and casually began to slide it back into his breeches pocket, with his eyebrows still raised and his mouth half-open, as if to say, 'Yes, yes, I'm putting my purse in my pocket, that's all there is to it, and it's nobody's business but mine.'
'Well, young man?' he said with a sigh, staring out from under those raised eyebrows for once straight into Rostov's eyes. A strange glint surged like a charge of electricity from Telyanin's eyes to Rostov's and back again, to and fro in a split second.
'Come over here,' said Rostov, grabbing Telyanin by the arm and almost dragging him to the window. 'That money is Denisov's. You took it . . .' he whispered in his ear.
'You what? . . . What? . . . How dare you? What do you mean? . . .' said Telyanin. But the words sounded pathetic, almost desperate, a plea for forgiveness. The moment Rostov heard that tone of voice, a great boulder of doubt seemed to fall from him and roll away. He felt a thrill of delight, mixed immediately with some pity for the miserable creature standing before him, but this was something that had to be taken all the way.
'God knows what these people might think,' Telyanin was muttering. He snatched up his cap and went over to a small empty room. 'We need to talk . . .'
'Yes, I know we do. I can prove it,' said Rostov.
'I . . .'
Telyanin's terrified face, drained of all colour, now twitched in every muscle, and his eyes darted about everywhere, but only downwards, never coming to the level of Rostov's face. His sobs were pitiful to hear.
'Count! . . . please don't ruin me . . . I'm only young . . . here's the wretched money, take it! . . .' He threw it down on the table. 'My mother . . . my father's an old man . . .'
Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and left the room without a word. But he stopped in the doorway and looked back.
'My God!' he said, with tears in his eyes, 'how could you have done that?'
'Count . . .' said Telyanin, coming nearer.
'Don't you touch me,' said Rostov, backing away. 'If you're so badly off, keep the money.'
He flung the purse at him and ran out of the inn.
CHAPTER 5
That same evening in Denisov's quarters a heated discussion was taking place among some of the squadron officers.
'But I'm telling you, Rostov, that you're going to have to apologize to the colonel.' The words came from a staff captain, a tall man with greying hair, a vast spread of whiskers, bold features and a deeply furrowed face. Rostov was bright red with excitement. Kirsten, the staff captain in question, had been reduced to the ranks twice for affairs of honour, both times regaining his commission.
'I won't let anybody call me a liar!' cried Rostov. 'He said I was lying and I said he was. And that's it. He can put me on extra duty every day of the week, he can put me under arrest but no one's going to make me apologize, because if he thinks that being our colonel means it's beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then . . .'
'Hang on, old fellow, you just listen to me,' put in the staff captain in his deep bass voice, calmly smoothing his long whiskers. 'You tell the CO with officers present that another officer has been stealing . . .'
'Well, it's not my fault there were other officers around when I spoke. Maybe I shouldn't have spoken while they were there, but I'm no diplomat. That's why I joined the hussars. I didn't think there would be any hair-splitting here. So when he calls me a liar . . . let him give me satisfaction.'
'That's all very well, but nobody thinks you're a coward. That's not the point. Denisov will tell you whether it's even remotely possible for a cadet to challenge his CO.'
Denisov was biting his moustache and looking rather grim as he listened to the conversation, evidently not wanting to be drawn into it. He shook his head in response to the captain's question.
'So there you are in the presence of other officers sounding off to the CO about this nasty business,' the staff captain persisted. 'Bogdanych' (the colonel) 'brings you into line . . .'
'That's not what he did. He said I wasn't telling the truth.'
'Yes, and you said some stupid things, for which you must now apologize.'
'Not on your life!' shouted Rostov.
'This is something I never expected from you,' said the staff captain, with a grave and stern look about him. 'You won't apologize, but, my good sir, it's not only him, it's the whole regiment, all of us, that you've offended. You're completely in the wrong. Listen. If only you'd stopped and thought for a minute, taken a bit of advice about what to do . . . but no, you had to go and blurt it all out before all the officers. So what's the colonel supposed to do next? Charge the officer and disgrace the whole regiment? Shame the whole regiment because of one cad? Go on, should he do that? I'll tell you what we think - no! Bogdanych was a good fellow. He just told you that what you were saying couldn't be true. It's not very nice, but what else could he do? Listen, old man, you brought this on yourself. And now when people are trying to hush things up a bit, you get on your high horse and refuse to apologize - you want the whole story to come out. You see red because you've been given some extra duty. Well, why can't you just go and apologize to an old and honourable officer? Say what you will about Bogdanych, but he is an honourable and gallant old colonel. But oh no, you feel you've been slighted, and you don't mind disgracing the whole regiment!' The staff captain's voice became shaky. 'You, sir, are a new boy in this regiment. You're here today, and tomorrow you'll be a nice little adjutant somewhere else. You couldn't care less if people start saying there is thieving among the Pavlograd officers! But we care! Don't we, Denisov? Don't we care?'
Denisov neither moved nor spoke. Now and then his gleaming black eyes settled on Rostov.
'Your pride means a lot to you, so you won't apologize,' continued the staff captain, 'but we old-timers, we've grown up in this regiment and please God we'll die in it . . . and the honour of our regiment means a lot to us, and Bogdanych knows that. I'll say it does! But this is wrong. It's just wrong! I don't want to offend you, but I always speak plain. And this is wrong!'
At this the staff captain got up and turned his back on Rostov.
'Too damn twue!' shouted Denisov, jumping to his feet. 'Come on, Wostov, what about it?'
Rostov, turning red and then white, looked from one to the other. 'No, gentlemen, no . . . er, please don't think . . . I . . . I see what you mean . . . you've got me wrong . . . for me . . . for the honour of the regiment . . . I'd . . . well listen, I'll show you what . . . I can honour our colours . . . well, anyway, what you say is true, I am in the wrong!' His eyes had filled with tears. 'I'm completely in the wrong! Well, what more do you want?'
'Now you're talking, Count,' cried the staff captain, turning round and clapping him on the shoulder with a huge hand.
'I tell you,' shouted Denisov, 'he's a weal man.'
'That's better, Count,' repeated the captain, using his title in appreciation of his confession. 'Go and apologize, your Excellency. Yes, sir, that's what you must do.'
'Gentlemen, I'll do anything. You won't hear a peep out of me,' Rostov went on in a voice of supplication, 'but I can't apologize, for God's sake. I just can't, whatever you say! How can I go and apologize, like a little boy asking to go unpunished?'
Denisov laughed.
'It'll be worse if you don't. Bogdanych has a long memory. He'll make you pay for being awkward,' said Kirsten.
'Good God, I'm not being awkward! I can't describe how it feels . . . No, I can't do it!'
'Well, it's your decision,' said the staff captain. 'By the way, where has that swine hidden himself?' he asked Denisov.
'He's weported sick. There's an order for him to be stwuck off tomowwow,' said Denisov.
'Well, he must be ill. There's no other explanation,' said the staff captain.
'Ill or not, he'd better keep out of my way - I'll kill him,' came the bloodthirsty cry from Denisov.
In came Zherkov.
'What are you doing here?' cried the officers, turning to the newcomer.
'We're going into battle, gentlemen. Mack has surrendered - with his whole army.'
'Nonsense!'
'I've seen him with my own eyes.'
'You've what? Seen Mack alive, with all his limbs intact?'
'Into battle! Into battle! Give that man some vodka for bringing news like that! But why have you come?'
'I've been sent back to my regiment because of that devil, Mack. The Austrian general filed a complaint against me. All I did was compliment him on Mack's arrival . . . Hey, what's wrong with you, Rostov? You look as if you've just come out of the bath-house.'
'Oh, we've had a spot of bother for a couple of days, old man.'
Then the regimental adjutant came in and confirmed Zherkov's news. They were under marching orders for the next day.
'Into battle, gentlemen!'
'Well, thank God for that! We've been stuck here long enough!'
CHAPTER 6
Kutuzov pulled back towards Vienna, destroying bridges behind him over the river Inn (in Braunau) and the river Traun (in Linz). On the 23rd of October the Russian troops crossed the river Enns. By midday Russian baggage-wagons, artillery and columns of troops were strung out in long lines throughout the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge. It was a warm but showery autumn day. The broad panorama that unfolded below the Russian batteries guarding the bridge was sometimes closed off by a gossamer curtain of slanting rain, but then would spread itself out again in bright sunlight so that far-off objects could be seen clearly in the distance glinting as if newly varnished. The little town stood out sharply down below with its white houses and their red roofs, its cathedral and its bridge, on which streaming masses of Russian troops crowded together at both ends. At a bend of the Danube they could see ships, an island and a castle in parkland, surrounded by the waters of the Enns flowing into the Danube, and the Danube's own rocky, pine-covered left bank with its mysterious green peaks and bluish gorges receding into the distance. The towers of a convent rose up out of the wild virgin pine forest, and straight ahead across the Enns, on a hill in the far distance, enemy troops could be seen riding on patrol.
Among the field guns at the top of the hill stood two men in a forward position, the general in command of the rearguard and one of his staff officers. They were scanning the countryside through field-glasses. Just behind them, sitting on the trail of a gun carriage, was Nesvitsky, who had been sent to the rearguard by the commander-in-chief. His Cossack orderly had handed him knapsack and flask, and Nesvitsky was now dishing out little pasties and real doppelkummel 6 to the other officers. They circled around him, squatting down contentedly, some on their knees, some cross-legged Turkish-fashion.
'That Austrian prince who built a castle here knew what he was doing. It's a magnificent spot. Why aren't you eating, gentlemen?' said Nesvitsky.
'I'm most grateful, Prince,' answered one officer, delighted to be talking to a staff officer of such importance. 'Yes, it is a magnificent spot. We marched in past the park and we saw a couple of deer. And the house is simply wonderful!'
'Look over there, Prince,' said someone else, hungry for another pasty but too embarrassed to take one and thus making a show of studying the countryside. 'Look where our infantry boys have got to. There they are, just past that village, three of them, carrying something across a field. They'll soon smash their way into that palace,' he said, with some relish.
'I'm sure they will,' said Nesvitsky. 'But that's not it. You know what?' he added, his handsome mouth moist from munching a pasty, 'I'd like to see them get in there.' He was pointing to the convent towers on the far hillside. He smiled, with a special glint in his narrowed eyes. 'Be all right, wouldn't it, gentlemen!' The officers laughed.
'Shake those nuns up a bit. Italian girls, they do say, nice young ones. Worth five years of anybody's life!'
'And they must be bored stiff,' laughed one of the cheekier officers.
Meanwhile the officer up front was pointing out something to the general, and he peered through his field-glass.
'Yes, it is, it is,' said the general angrily, lowering the telescope with a shrug, 'you're right, they're going to get fired on, crossing that river. Why are they taking so long?'
On the far side the enemy and their batteries, with milky-white smoke rising from them, were visible to the naked eye. After the smoke came the sound of a distant shot, and our troops could be seen perceptibly speeding up the crossing.
Nesvitsky got up slightly out of breath and went over to the general, smiling.
'Sir, would you like a bite of something?' he asked.
'It's a bad business,' said the general, without answering. 'Our men have taken too long.'
'Shall I ride down there, your Excellency?' said Nesvitsky.
'Yes, please do,' said the general, going on to repeat an order that had already been given in detail, 'and tell the hussars they must cross last and then set fire to the bridge. I've already told them. And they must double-check the kindling materials on the bridge.'
'Very good,' answered Nesvitsky. He beckoned to the Cossack who was holding his horse, told him to clear away the knapsack and flask, and then swung his great bulk easily into the saddle.
'Well, I think I'll just drop in on those nuns,' he said to the amused officers watching him, and rode off down the winding hill path.
'Come on then, Captain, let's see how fa