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In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the
commander in chief.
When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering
his face, was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short
man was saying something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking
and went out.
"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin
as soon as the short man had left the room. "We have heard
of your prowess. But that's not the point. Between ourselves,
mon cher, do you belong to the Masons?" he went on severely,
as though there were something wrong about it which he nevertheless
intended to pardon. Pierre remained silent. "I am well informed,
my friend, but I am aware that there are Masons and Masons and
I hope that you are not one of those who on pretense of saving
mankind wish to ruin Russia."
"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied.
"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs.
Speranski and Magnitski have been deported to their proper place.
Mr. Klyucharev has been treated in the same way, and so have others
who on the plea of building up the temple of Solomon have tried
to destroy the temple of their fatherland. You can understand
that there are reasons for this and that I could not have exiled
the Postmaster had he not been a harmful person. It has now come
to my knowledge that you lent him your carriage for his removal
from town, and that you have even accepted papers from him for
safe custody. I like you and don't wish you any harm and- as you
are only half my age- I advise you, as a father would, to cease
all communication with men of that stamp and to leave here as
soon as possible."
"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked
Pierre.
"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask,"
shouted Rostopchin.
"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation
it is not proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking
at Rostopchin, "and Vereshchagin..."
"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder
than before, frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade
and a traitor who will be punished as he deserves," said
he with the vindictive heat with which people speak when recalling
an insult. "But I did not summon you to discuss my actions,
but to give you advice- or an order if you prefer it. I beg you
to leave the town and break off all communication with such men
as Klyucharev. And I will knock the nonsense out of anybody"-
but probably realizing that he was shouting at Bezukhov who so
far was not guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre's hand
in a friendly manner, "We are on the eve of a public disaster
and I haven't time to be polite to everybody who has business
with me. My head is sometimes in a whirl. Well, mon cher, what
are you doing personally?"
"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising
his eyes or changing the thoughtful expression of his face.
The count frowned.
"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon
as you can, that's all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears
to hear. Good-by, my dear fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted
through the doorway after Pierre, "is it true that the countess
has fallen into the clutches of the holy fathers of the Society
of Jesus?"
Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen
and angry than he had ever before shown himself.
When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight
people had come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee,
the colonel of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and
various petitioners. They all had business with Pierre and wanted
decisions from him. Pierre did not understand and was not interested
in any of these questions and only answered them in order to get
rid of these people. When left alone at last he opened and read
his wife's letter.
"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed...
that old man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is
necessary... the meaning of all... one must harness... my wife
is getting married... One must forget and understand..."
And going to his bed he threw himself on it without undressing
and immediately fell asleep.
When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him
that a special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count
Rostopchin to know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving
the town.
A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting
him in the drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead
of going to see them, went to the back porch and out through the
gate.
From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no
one of Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made,
saw Pierre again or knew where he was.
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