War And Peace: Book 13 - CHAPTER XI

作者: Leo Tolstoy

Free Download Babylon Translate Software

The poster (email) is not available. 收藏推荐:

图书介绍

Author: Leo Tolstoy

EARLY in the morning of the 6th of October, Pierre came out of the shed, and

when he went back, he stood in the doorway, playing with the long bandy-legged,

purplish-grey dog, that jumped about him. This dog lived in their shed, sleeping

with Karataev, though it sometimes went off on its own account into the town,

and came back again. It had probably never belonged to any one, and now it had

no master, and no name. The French called it Azor; the soldier who told stories

called it Femgalka; Karataev called it “Grey-coat,” and sometimes “Floppy.” The

lack of a master, of a name, of any particular breed, and even of a definite

colour, by no means troubled the purplish-grey dog. Its fluffy tail stood up

firm and round like a plume; its bandy legs served it so well that often, as

though disdaining to use all four, it would hold one hind-leg gracefully up, and

run very quickly and smartly on three paws. Everything was a source of

satisfaction to it. At one moment, it was barking with joy, then it would bask

in the sun, with a dreamy and thoughtful air, then it would frolic about,

playing with a chip or a straw.

Pierre's attire now consisted of a dirty, tattered shirt, the sole relic left

of his previous wardrobe, a pair of soldier's drawers, tied with string round

the ankles by Karataev's advice, for the sake of warmth, a full peasant's coat

and a peasant's cap. Physically Pierre had changed greatly during this period.

He no longer seemed stout, though he still had that look of solidity and

strength that was characteristic of the Bezuhov family. The lower part of his

face was overgrown with beard and moustaches; his long, tangled hair, swarming

with lice, formed a mat of curls on his head. His eyes had a look of firmness,

calm, and alert readiness, such as had never been seen in Pierre's face before.

All his old slackness, which had shown even in his eyes, was replaced now by a

vigorous, alert look of readiness for action and for resistance. His feet were

bare.

Pierre looked over the meadow, across which waggons and men on horseback were

moving that morning, then far away beyond the river, then at the dog, who was

pretending to be meaning to bite him in earnest, then at his bare feet, which he

shifted with pleasure from one position to another, moving the dirty, thick, big

toes. And every time he looked at his bare feet, a smile of eager

self-satisfaction flitted across his face. The sight of those bare feet reminded

him of all he had passed through and learned during this time; and the thought

of that was sweet to him.

The weather had for several days been still and clear, with light frosts in

the mornings—the so-called “old granny's summer.”

It was warm out of doors in the sunshine, and that warmth was particularly

pleasant, with the bracing freshness of the morning frost still in the

air.

Over everything, over all objects near and far, lay that magical,

crystal-clear brightness, which is only seen at that time in the autumn. In the

distance could be seen the Sparrow Hills, with the village, the church, and the

great white house. And the leafless trees, and the sand and the stones and roofs

of the houses, the green spire of the church, and the angles of the white house

in the distance, all stood out in the most delicate outlines with unnatural

distinctness in the limpid air. Close at hand stood the familiar ruins of a

half-burnt mansion, occupied by French soldiers, with lilac bushes still

dark-green by the fence. And even this charred and ruined house, which looked

revoltingly hideous in bad weather, had a sort of soothing comeliness in the

clear, still brightness.

A French corporal, in a smoking-cap, with his coat comfortably unbuttoned,

came round the corner of the shed, with a short pipe between his teeth, and with

a friendly wink, approached Pierre.

“What sunshine, hein, M. Kiril?” (This was what all the French

soldiers called Pierre.) “One would say it was spring.” And the corporal leaned

against the door, and offered Pierre his pipe, though he was always offering it,

and Pierre always declined it.

“If one were marching in weather like this,” he began.

Pierre questioned him what he had heard of the departure of the French, and

the corporal told him that almost all the troops were setting out, and that

to-day instructions were expected in regard to the prisoners. In the shed in

which Pierre was, one of the Russian soldiers, Sokolov, was dangerously ill, and

Pierre told the corporal that something ought to be done about this soldier. The

corporal said that Pierre might set his mind at rest, that they had both

travelling and stationary hospitals for such cases, that instructions would be

given in regard to the sick, and that in fact every possible contingency was

provided for by the authorities.

“And then, M. Kiril, you have only to say a word to the captain, you know.

Oh, he is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to the captain when he makes

his round; he will do anything for you.”

The captain of whom the corporal spoke used often to have long conversations

with Pierre, and did him all kinds of favours.

“‘You see, St. Thomas,” he said to me the other day, ‘Kiril is a man of

education, who speaks French; he is a Russian lord who has had troubles, but he

is a man. And he understands … If he wants anything, let him tell me, he shall

not meet with a refusal. When one has studied, one likes education, you see, and

well-bred people.' It's for your own sake I tell you that, M. Kiril. In the

affair that happened the other day, if it hadn't been for you, things would have

ended badly.”

(The corporal was alluding to a fight a few days before between the prisoners

and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had succeeded in pacifying his

companions.) After chatting a little time longer the corporal went away.

Several of the prisoners had heard Pierre talking to the corporal, and they

came up immediately to ask what the latter had said. While Pierre was telling

his companions what the corporal had said about setting off from Moscow, a thin,

sallow, ragged French soldier came up to the door of the shed. With a shy and

rapid gesture he put his fingers to his forehead by way of a salute, and

addressing Pierre, asked him if the soldier, Platoche, who was making a shirt

for him, were in this shed.

The French soldiers had been provided with linen and leather a week

previously, and had given out the materials to the Russian prisoners to make

them boots and shirts.

“It's ready, darling, it's ready!” said Karataev, coming out with a carefully

folded shirt. On account of the heat and for greater convenience in working,

Karataev was wearing nothing but a pair of drawers and a tattered shirt, as

black as the earth. He had tied a wisp of bast round his hair, as workmen do,

and his round face looked rounder and more pleasing than ever.

“Punctuality is own brother to good business. I said Friday, and so I have

done it,” said Platon, smiling and displaying the shirt he had made.

The Frenchman looked about him uneasily, and as though overcoming some

hesitation, rapidly slipped off his uniform and put on the shirt. Under his

uniform he had no shirt, but a long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next his

bare, yellow, thin body. The Frenchman was evidently afraid that the prisoners,

who were looking at him, would laugh at him, and he made haste to put his head

through the shirt. None of the prisoners said a word. “To be sure, it fits

well,” Platon observed, pulling the shirt down. The Frenchman, after putting his

head and arms through, looked down at the shirt, and examined the stitching

without lifting his eyes.

“Well, darling, this isn't a tailor's, you know, and I had no proper sewing

materials, and there's a saying without the right tool you can't even kill a

louse properly,” said Karataev, still admiring his own handiwork.

“Very good, thanks; but you must have some stuff left…” said the

Frenchman.

“It will be more comfortable as it wears to your body,” said Karataev, still

admiring his work. “There, you'll be nice and comfortable.”

“Thanks, thanks, old fellow; but what is left…?” repeated the Frenchman,

giving Karataev a paper note. “Give me the pieces that are over.”

Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman said,

and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked him for the rouble and

went on admiring his own work. The Frenchman persisted in asking for what was

left, and asked Pierre to translate what he said.

“What does he want with the pieces?” said Karataev. “They would have made me

capital leg wrappers. Oh well, God bless the man.”

And, looking suddenly crestfallen and melancholy, Karataev took a bundle of

remnants out of his bosom and gave it to the Frenchman without looking at him.

“Ach-ma!” he cried, and walked away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, he

hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Pierre, and as though Pierre's eyes had told

him something:

“Here, Platoche!” he cried in a shrill voice, suddenly blushing. “Keep them

yourself,” he said, and giving him the remnants, he turned and went out.

“There, look'ee now,” said Karataev, shaking his head. “They say they're not

Christians, but they have souls too. It's true what the old folks used to say: a

sweating hand is an open hand, but a dry hand is closefisted. His own back's

bare, and yet he has given me this.” Karataev paused for a while, smiling

dreamily and gazing at the cuttings of linen. “But first-rate leg binders

they'll make me, my dear,” he added, as he went back into the shed.

[Translate] Download Babylon Translate Software for Free!
[Directly Download] War And Peace: Book 13 - CHAPTER XI!

Download this book from Usenet

Free register and download UseNet downloader, then you can free download from UseNet.

Download "War And Peace: Book 13 - CHAPTER XI" from Usenet!

使用Usenet下载

免费注册即可使用Usenext下载电子书！
Usenet是来自德国的下载软件，强大的共享网络搜索下载工具，免费注册后即可不限速下载150G 电子书，Audiobook等等~~赶快下载使用吧！

Copyright Disclaimer:
本站一切内容源于互联网搜索，禁止商用！如有任何不妥请联系:admin@ebookee.com，我们将在24小时内删除相关内容。

浏览量：197 添加时间：2007-05-11 00:13:49, 更新时间：2007-05-27 05:03:00, from internet