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On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general
into his private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some
papers relating to the condition of the troops on their arrival,
and the letters that had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who
was in command of the advanced army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came
into the room with the required papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian
member of the Hofkriegsrath were sitting at the table on which
a plan was spread out.
"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if
by this exclamation he was asking the adjutant to wait, and he
went on with the conversation in French.
"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant
elegance of expression and intonation that obliged one to listen
to each deliberately spoken word. It was evident that Kutuzov
himself listened with pleasure to his own voice. "All I can
say, General, is that if the matter depended on my personal wishes,
the will of His Majesty the Emperor Francis would have been fulfilled
long ago. I should long ago have joined the archduke. And believe
me on my honour that to me personally it would be a pleasure to
hand over the supreme command of the army into the hands of a
better informed and more skillful general- of whom Austria has
so many- and to lay down all this heavy responsibility. But circumstances
are sometimes too strong for us, General."
And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You
are quite at liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether
you do or not, but you have no grounds for telling me so. And
that is the whole point."
The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option
but to reply in the same tone.
"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry
tone that contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary,
your excellency's participation in the common action is highly
valued by His Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving
the splendid Russian troops and their commander of the laurels
they have been accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded
his evidently prearranged sentence.
Kutuzov bowed with the same smile.
"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter
with which His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me,
I imagine that the Austrian troops, under the direction of so
skillful a leader as General Mack, have by now already gained
a decisive victory and no longer need our aid," said Kutuzov.
The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of
an Austrian defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the
unfavorable rumors that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion
of an Austrian victory sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went
on blandly smiling with the same expression, which seemed to say
that he had a right to suppose so. And, in fact, the last letter
he had received from Mack's army informed him of a victory and
stated strategically the position of the army was very favorable.
"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince
Andrew. "Please have a look at it"- and Kutuzov with
an ironical smile about the corners of his mouth read to the Austrian
general the following passage, in German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's
letter:
We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand
men with which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross
the Lech. Also, as we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived
of the advantage of commanding both sides of the Danube, so that
should the enemy not cross the Lech, we can cross the Danube,
throw ourselves on his line of communications, recross the river
lower down, and frustrate his intention should he try to direct
his whole force against our faithful ally. We shall therefore
confidently await the moment when the Imperial Russian army will
be fully equipped, and shall then, in conjunction with it, easily
find a way to prepare for the enemy the fate he deserves.
Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked
at the member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively.
"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising
one to expect the worst," said the Austrian general, evidently
wishing to have done with jests and to come to business. He involuntarily
looked round at the aide-de-camp.
"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also
turning to Prince Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get
from Kozlovski all the reports from our scouts. Here are two letters
from Count Nostitz and here is one from His Highness the Archduke
Ferdinand and here are these," he said, handing him several
papers, "make a neat memorandum in French out of all this,
showing all the news we have had of the movements of the Austrian
army, and then give it to his excellency."
Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood
from the first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov
would have liked to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with
a bow to both, stepped softly over the carpet and went out into
the waiting room.
Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left
Russia, he had changed greatly during that period. In the expression
of his face, in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was
left of his former affected languor and indolence. He now looked
like a man who has time to think of the impression he makes on
others, but is occupied with agreeable and interesting work. His
face expressed more satisfaction with himself and those around
him, his smile and glance were brighter and more attractive.
Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him
very kindly, promised not to forget him, distinguished him above
the other adjutants, and had taken him to Vienna and given him
the more serious commissions. From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his
old comrade, Prince Andrew's father.
Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his
industry, firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate
to have such a subordinate by me.
On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army
generally, Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society,
two quite opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged
him to be different from themselves and from everyone else, expected
great things of him, listened to him, admired, and imitated him,
and with them Prince Andrew was natural and pleasant. Others,
the majority, disliked him and considered him conceited, cold,
and disagreeable. But among these people Prince Andrew knew how
to take his stand so that they respected and even feared him.
Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the
papers in his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp
on duty, Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book.
"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski.
"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we
are not advancing."
"And why is it?"
Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
"Any news from Mack?"
"No."
"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would
have come."
"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the
outer door.
But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat,
with the order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage
round his head, who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly,
slamming the door. Prince Andrew stopped short.
"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived
general speaking quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to
both sides and advancing straight toward the inner door.
"The commander in chief is engaged," said Kozlovski,
going hurriedly up to the unknown general and blocking his way
to the door. "Whom shall I announce?"
The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski,
who was rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know
him.
"The commander in chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski
calmly.
The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled.
He took out a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil,
tore out the leaf, gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the
window, and threw himself into a chair, gazing at those in the
room as if asking, "Why do they look at me?" Then he
lifted his head, stretched his neck as if he intended to say something,
but immediately, with affected indifference, began to hum to himself,
producing a queer sound which immediately broke off. The door
of the private room opened and Kutuzov appeared in the doorway.
The general with the bandaged head bent forward as though running
away from some danger, and, making long, quick strides with his
thin legs, went up to Kutuzov.
"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a
broken voice.
Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly
immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like
a wave and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head
respectfully, closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room
before him, and closed the door himself behind him.
The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had
been beaten and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved
to be correct. Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in
various directions with orders which showed that the Russian troops,
who had hitherto been inactive, would also soon have to meet the
enemy.
Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief
interest lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack
and heard the details of his disaster he understood that half
the campaign was lost, understood all the difficulties of the
Russian army's position, and vividly imagined what awaited it
and the part he would have to play. Involuntarily he felt a joyful
agitation at the thought of the humiliation of arrogant Austria
and that in a week's time he might, perhaps, see and take part
in the first Russian encounter with the French since Suvorov met
them. He feared that Bonaparte's genius might outweigh all the
courage of the Russian troops, and at the same time could not
admit the idea of his hero being disgraced.
Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went
toward his room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every
day. In the corridor he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room,
and the wag Zherkov; they were as usual laughing.
"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing
Prince Andrew's pale face and glittering eyes.
"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski.
Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came
toward them from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian
general who on Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of
the Russian army, and the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had
arrived the previous evening. There was room enough in the wide
corridor for the generals to pass the three officers quite easily,
but Zherkov, pushing Nesvitski aside with his arm, said in a breathless
voice,
"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make
way, please make way!"
The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to
avoid embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov
there suddenly appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed
unable to suppress.
"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward
and addressing the Austrian general, "I have the honor to
congratulate you."
He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then
with the other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson.
The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but,
seeing the seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give
him a moment's attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that
he was listening.
"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has
arrived, quite well, only a little bruised just here," he
added, pointing with a beaming smile to his head.
The general frowned, turned away, and went on.
"Gott, wie naiv!"* said he angrily, after he had
gone a few steps.
*"Good God, what simplicity!"
Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew,
but Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry
look and turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by
the appearance of Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought
of what lay before the Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's
untimely jest.
"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself,"
he said sharply, with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I
can't prevent your doing so; but I warn you that if you dare to
play the fool in my presence, I will teach you to behave yourself."
Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that
they gazed at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes.
"What's the matter? I only congratulated them,"
said Zherkov.
"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried
Bolkonski, and taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did
not know what to say.
"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski
trying to soothe him.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing
still in his excitement. "Don't you understand that either
we are officers serving our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in
the successes and grieving at the misfortunes of our common cause,
or we are merely lackeys who care nothing for their master's business.
Quarante mille hommes massacres et l'armee de nos allies detruite,
et vous trouvez la le mot pour rire,"* he said, as if strengthening
his views by this French sentence. "C' est bien pour un garcon
de rein comme cet individu dont vous avez fait un ami, mais pas
pour vous, pas pour vous.*[2] Only a hobbledehoy could amuse himself
in this way," he added in Russian- but pronouncing the word
with a French accent- having noticed that Zherkov could still
hear him.
*"Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies
destroyed, and you find that a cause for jesting!"
*[2] "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow
of whom you have made a friend, but not for you, not for you."
He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer,
but he turned and went out of the corridor.
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