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At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers
as he had been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked
fixedly into his face and just nodded to him with to him with
his long head. But after it was over, the adjutant he had seen
the previous day ceremoniously informed Bolkonski that the Emperor
desired to give him an audience. The Emperor Francis received
him standing in the middle of the room. Before the conversation
began Prince Andrew was struck by the fact that the Emperor seemed
confused and blushed as if not knowing what to say.
"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly.
Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just
as simple: "Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?"
and so on. The Emperor spoke as if his sole aim were to put a
given number of questions- the answers to these questions, as
was only too evident, did not interest him.
"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the
Emperor.
"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle
began at the front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack
began after five in the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing
more animated and expecting that he would have a chance to give
a reliable account, which he had ready in his mind, of all he
knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled and interrupted him.
"How many miles?"
"From where to where, Your Majesty?"
"From Durrenstein to Krems."
"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty."
"The French have abandoned the left bank?"
"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on
rafts during the night."
"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?"
"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..."
The Emperor interrupted him.
"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?"
"At seven o'clock, I believe."
"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!"
The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew
withdrew and was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides.
Everywhere he saw friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's
adjutant reproached him for not having stayed at the palace, and
offered him his own house. The Minister of War came up and congratulated
him on the Maria Theresa Order of the third grade, which the Emperor
was conferring on him. The Empress' chamberlain invited him to
see Her Majesty. The archduchess also wished to see him. He did
not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds collected his thoughts.
Then the Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him
to the window, and began to talk to him.
Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was
joyfully received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov
was awarded the Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army
received rewards. Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to
spend the whole morning calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries.
Between four and five in the afternoon, having made all his calls,
he was returning to Bilibin's house thinking out a letter to his
father about the battle and his visit to Brunn. At the door he
found a vehicle half full of luggage. Franz, Bilibin's man, was
dragging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of the front door.
Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to bookshop
to provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent
some time in the shop.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty
rolling the portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move
on still farther. The scoundrel is again at our heels!"
"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew.
Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed
excitement.
"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said
he. "This affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They
have crossed without striking a blow!"
Prince Andrew could not understand.
"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman
in the town knows?"
"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there."
"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?"
"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince
Andrew impatiently.
"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the
bridge that Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown
up: so Murat is now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be
here in a day or two."
"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge,
if it was mined?"
"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte,
knows why."
Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders.
"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army
too is lost? It will be cut off," said he.
"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen!
The French entered Vienna as I told you. Very well. Next day,
which was yesterday, those gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux,*
Murat, Lannes,and Belliard, mount and ride to bridge. (Observe
that all three are Gascons.) 'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you
know the Thabor Bridge is mined and doubly mined and that there
are menacing fortifications at its head and an army of fifteen
thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge and not let
us cross? But it will please our sovereign the Emperor Napoleon
if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes,
let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the bridge, cross
it, and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube,
marching on us, you, and your lines of communication."
*The marshalls.
"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously.
This news grieved him and yet he was pleased.
As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a
hopeless situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined
to lead it out of this position; that here was the Toulon that
would lift him from the ranks of obscure officers and offer him
the first step to fame! Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining
how on reaching the army he would give an opinion at the war council
which would be the only one that could save the army, and how
he alone would be entrusted with the executing of the plan.
"Stop this jesting," he said
"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing
is truer or sadder. These gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone
and wave white handkerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty
that they, the marshals, are on their way to negotiate with Prince
Auersperg. He lets them enter the tete-de-pont.* They spin him
a thousand gasconades, saying that the war is over, that the Emperor
Francis is arranging a meeting with Bonaparte, that they desire
to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg;
these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the
cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved,
flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches
the tete-de-pont. At length appears the lieutenant general, our
dear Prince Auersperg von Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower
of the Austrian army, hero of the Turkish wars Hostilities are
ended, we can shake one another's hand.... The Emperor Napoleon
burns with impatience to make Prince Auersperg's acquaintance.'
In a word, those gentlemen, Gascons indeed, so bewildered him
with fine words, and he is so flattered by his rapidly established
intimacy with the French marshals, and so dazzled by the sight
of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il n'y voit que du feu,
et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur l'ennemi!"*[2]
In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did not forget
to pause after this mot to give time for its due appreciation.
"The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the
guns, and the bridge is taken! But what is best of all,"
he went on, his excitement subsiding under the delightful interest
of his own story, "is that the sergeant in charge of the
cannon which was to give the signal to fire the mines and blow
up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French troops were
running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes stayed
his hand. The sergeant, who was evidently wiser than his general,
goes up to Auersperg and says: 'Prince, you are being deceived,
here are the French!' Murat, seeing that all is lost if the sergeant
is allowed to speak, turns to Auersperg with feigned astonishment
(he is a true Gascon) and says: 'I don't recognize the world-famous
Austrian discipline, if you allow a subordinate to address you
like that!' It was a stroke of genius. Prince Auersperg feels
his dignity at stake and orders the sergeant to be arrested. Come,
you must own that this affair of the Thabor Bridge is delightful!
It is not exactly stupidity, nor rascality...."
*Bridgehead.
*[2] That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that
he ought to be firing at the enemy.
"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly
imagining the gray overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder,
the sounds of firing, and the glory that awaited him.
"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light,"
replied Bilibin."It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity:
it is just as at Ulm... it is..."- he seemed to be trying
to find the right expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous
sommes mackes [It is... it is a bit of Mack. We are Macked],"
he concluded, feeling that he had produced a good epigram, a fresh
one that would be repeated. His hitherto puckered brow became
smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a slight smile he began
to examine his nails.
"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince
Andrew who had risen and was going toward his room.
"I am going away."
"Where to?"
"To the army."
"But you meant to stay another two days?"
"But now I am off at once."
And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure
went to his room.
"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following
him, "I have been thinking about you. Why are you going?"
And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the
wrinkles vanished from his face.
Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply.
"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to
gallop back to the army now that it is in danger. I understand
that. Mon cher, it is heroism!"
"Not at all," said Prince Andrew.
"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look
at the other side of the question and you will see that your duty,
on the contrary, is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those
who are no longer fit for anything else.... You have not been
ordered to return and have not been dismissed from here; therefore,
you can stay and go with us wherever our ill luck takes us. They
say we are going to Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very decent town.
You and I will travel comfortably in my caleche."
"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski.
"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where
and why are you going, when you might remain here? You are faced
by one of two things," and the skin over his left temple
puckered, "either you will not reach your regiment before
peace is concluded, or you will share defeat and disgrace with
Kutuzov's whole army."
And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma
was insoluble.
"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew
coldly, but he thought: "I am going to save the army."
"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin.
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