|
One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody
in Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an
immaculate brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed
forward over his temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.
"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately
she could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be
more fortunate with you," he said with a smile.
"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service."
"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count"
(Berg said this with perfect conviction that this information
could not but be agreeable), "and so I wish to arrange just
a small party for my own and my wife's friends." (He smiled
still more pleasantly.) "I wished to ask the countess and
you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to supper."
Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people
as the Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such
an invitation. Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect
at his house a small but select company, and why this would give
him pleasure, and why though he grudged spending money on cards
or anything harmful, he was prepared to run into some expense
for the sake of good society- that Pierre could not refuse, and
promised to come.
"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about
ten minutes to eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general
is coming. He is very good to me. We shall have supper, Count.
So you will do me the favor."
Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived
at the Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight.
Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs
were really for their guests' arrival.
In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts
and pictures and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely
buttoned up in his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining
to her that one always could and should be acquainted with people
above one, because only then does one get satisfaction from acquaintances.
"You can get to know something, you can ask for something.
See how I managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured
his life not by years but by promotions.) "My comrades are
still nobodies, while I am only waiting for a vacancy to command
a regiment, and have the happiness to be your husband." (He
rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to her straightened
out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how have I obtained
all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my aquaintances. It
goes without saying that one must be conscientious and methodical."
Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman,
and paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all
but a weak woman who could not understand all that constitutes
a man's dignity, what it was ein Mann zu sein.* Vera at the same
time smiling with a sense of superiority over her good, conscientious
husband, who all the same understood life wrongly, as according
to Vera all men did. Berg, judging by his wife, thought all women
weak and foolish. Vera, judging only by her husband and generalizing
from that observation, supposed that all men, though they understand
nothing and are conceited and selfish, ascribe common sense to
themselves alone.
*To be a man.
Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush
her lace fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her
straight on the lips.
"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon,"
he continued, following an unconscious sequence of ideas.
"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want
that. We must live for society."
"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this,"
said Berg, pointing to the fichu with a happy and kindly smile.
Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced
at one another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each
mentally claiming the honor of this visit.
"This is what what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances,"
thought Berg. "This is what comes of knowing how to conduct
oneself."
"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining
the guests," said Vera, "because I know what interests
each of them and what to say to different people."
Berg smiled again.
"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine
conversation," said he.
They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where
it was impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its
symmetry, neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible
and not strange that Berg, having generously offered to disturb
the symmetry of an armchair or of the sofa for his dear guest,
but being apparently painfully undecided on the matter himself,
eventually left the visitor to settle the question of selection.
Pierre disturbed the symmetry by moving a chair for himself, and
Berg and Vera immediately began their evening party, interrupting
each other in their efforts to entertain their guest.
Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to
be entertained with conversation about the French embassy, at
once began accordingly. Berg, having decided that masculine conversation
was required, interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the
question of the war with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from
the general subject to personal considerations as to the proposals
made him to take part in the Austrian campaign and the reasons
why he had declined them. Though the conversation was very incoherent
and Vera was angry at the intrusion of the masculine element,
both husband and wife felt with satisfaction that, even if only
one guest was present, their evening had begun very well and was
as like as two peas to every other evening party with its talk,
tea, and lighted candles.
Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was
a shade of condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg
and Vera. After Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general
himself, then the Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably
exactly like all other evening parties. Berg and Vera could not
repress their smiles of satisfaction at the sight of all this
movement in their drawing room, at the sound of the disconnected
talk, the rustling of dresses, and the bowing and scraping. Everything
was just as everybody always has it, especially so the general,
who admired the apartment, patted Berg on the shoulder, and with
parental authority superintended the setting out of the table
for boston. The general sat down by Count Ilya Rostov, who was
next to himself the most important guest. The old people sat with
the old, the young with the young, and the hostess at the tea
table, on which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver
cake basket as the Panins had at their party. Everything was just
as it was everywhere else.
|
