§1
“OH, please, Nurse, tell me again how the French came to Moscow!” This was a constant petition of mine, as I stretched myself out in my crib with the cloth border to prevent my falling out, and nestled down under the warm quilt.
My old nurse, Vyéra Artamónovna, was just as eager to repeat her favourite story as I was to hear it; but her regular reply was: “You’ve heard that old story ever so often before, and besides it’s time for you to go to sleep; you had better rise earlier to-morrow.”
“Oh, but please tell me just a little—how you heard the news, and how it all began.”
“Well, it began this way. You know how your papa puts off always. The packing went on and on till at last it was done. Everyone said it was high time to be off; there was nothing to keep us and hardly a soul left in Moscow. But no! He was always discussing with your uncle Paul[[5]] about travelling together, and they were never both ready on the same day. But at last our things were packed, the carriage was ready, and the travellers had just sat down to lunch, when the head cook came into the dining-room as white as a sheet and reported that the enemy had entered the city at the Dragomirovsky Gate. Our hearts went down into our boots, and we prayed that the power of the Cross might be on our side. All was confusion, and, while we were bustling to and fro and crying out, suddenly we saw a regiment of dragoons galloping down the street; they wore strange helmets with horses’ tails tied on behind. They had closed all the city gates; so there was your papa in a pretty mess, and you with him! You were still with your foster-mother, Darya; you were very small and weak then.”
[5]. Paul Ivanovitch Golochvastov, who had married my father’s youngest sister.
And I smiled, with pride and pleasure at the thought that I had taken a part in the Great War.
“At first, all went reasonably well, during the first days at least. From time to time two or three soldiers would come into the house and ask for something to drink; of course we gave them a glass apiece, and then they would go away and salute quite politely as well. But then, you see, when the fires began and got worse and worse, there was terrible disorder, and pillage began and every sort of horror. We were living in a wing of the Princess’s house, and the house caught fire. Then your uncle Paul invited us to move to his house, which was built of stone and very strong and stood far back in a court-yard. So we all set off, masters and servants together—there was no thought of distinctions at such a time. When we got into the boulevard, the trees on each side were beginning to burn. At last we reached your uncle’s house, and it was actually blazing, with the fire spouting out of every window. Your uncle could not believe his eyes; he stood rooted to the ground.
“Behind the house, as you know, there is a big garden, and we went there, hoping to be safe. We sat down sadly enough on some benches there were there, when suddenly a band of drunken soldiers came in and one of them began to strip your uncle of a fur coat he had put on for the journey. But the old gentleman resisted, and the soldier pulled out his dirk and struck him in the face; and your uncle kept the scar to his dying day. The other soldiers set upon us, and one of them snatched you from the arms of your foster-mother, and undid your clothes, to see if there were any notes or jewels hidden there; when he found nothing, the mean fellow tore the clothes on purpose and then left you alone.
“As soon as they had gone, a great misfortune happened. You remember our servant Platon, who was sent to serve in the Army? He was always fond of the bottle and had had too much to drink that day. He had got hold of a sword and was walking about with it tied round his waist. The day before the enemy came, Count Rostopchín distributed arms of all kinds to the people at the Arsenal, and Platon had provided himself with a sword. Towards evening, a dragoon rode into the court-yard and tried to take a horse that was standing near the stable; but Platon flew at him, caught hold of the bridle, and said: ‘The horse is ours; you shan’t have it.’ The dragoon pointed a pistol at him, but it can’t have been loaded. Your father saw what was happening and called out: ‘Leave that horse alone, Platon! Don’t you interfere.’ But it was no good: Platon pulled out his sword and struck the soldier over the head; the man reeled under the blow, and Platon struck him again and again. We thought we were doomed now; for, if his comrades saw him, they would soon kill us. When the dragoon fell off, Platon caught hold of his legs and threw him into a lime-pit, though the poor wretch was still breathing; the man’s horse never moved but beat the ground with its hoof, as if it understood; our people shut it up in the stable, and it must have been burnt to death there.
“We all cleared out of the court as soon as we could; the fires everywhere grew worse and worse. Tired and hungry, we went into a house that had not caught fire, and threw ourselves down to rest; but, before an hour had passed, our servants in the street were calling out: ‘Come out! come out! Fire, fire!’ I took a piece of oil-cloth off the billiard table, to wrap you up from the night air. We got as far as the Tversky Square, and the Frenchmen were putting out the fires there, because one of their great generals was living in the Governor’s house in the square; we sat down as we were on the street; there were sentries moving all about and other soldiers on horseback. You were crying terribly; your foster-mother had no more milk, and none of us had even a piece of bread. But Natálya Konstantínovna was with us then, and she was afraid of nothing. She saw some soldiers eating in a corner; she took you in her arms and went straight off, and showed you to them. ‘The baby wants manger,’ she said. At first they looked angrily at her and said, ‘Allez, allez!’ Then she called them every bad name she could think of; and they did not understand a word, but they laughed heartily and gave her some bread soaked in water for you and a crust for herself. Early next morning an officer came and collected all the men, and your father too, and took them off to put out the fires round about; he left the women only, and your uncle who had been wounded. We stayed there alone till evening; we just sat there and cried. But at dark your father came back, and an officer with him.”