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<h2> CHAPTER IV </h2>
<p>Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east from
Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow.</p>
<p>The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to Alpatych,
Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, as the prince
was not very well and was taking no steps to secure his safety, though
from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that to remain at Bald Hills
might be dangerous, he respectfully advised her to send a letter by
Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at Smolensk, asking him to let her
know the state of affairs and the extent of the danger to which Bald Hills
was exposed. Dessalles wrote this letter to the Governor for Princess
Mary, she signed it, and it was given to Alpatych with instructions to
hand it to the Governor and to come back as quickly as possible if there
was danger.</p>
<p>Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat—a
present from the prince—and carrying a stick as the prince did, went
out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready harnessed
to a small conveyance with a leather hood.</p>
<p>The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness stuffed
with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive with ringing
bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. His satellites—the
senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery maid, a cook, two old
women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and various domestic serfs—were
seeing him off.</p>
<p>His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on and
behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, and one
of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle.</p>
<p>"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing and
speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the trap.</p>
<p>After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, not
trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald head and
crossed himself three times.</p>
<p>"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's sake
think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war and the
enemy.</p>
<p>"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and started on
his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye and the
still-green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black fields just
being plowed a second time.</p>
<p>As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop of
corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there were already
being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing and the harvest, and
asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of the prince's orders.</p>
<p>Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town toward
evening on the fourth of August.</p>
<p>Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on the
road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant firing, but
these did not impress him. What struck him most was the sight of a
splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and which was
being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. This fact impressed
Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business he soon forgot it.</p>
<p>All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been bounded
by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that limit. Everything
not connected with the execution of the prince's orders did not interest
and did not even exist for Alpatych.</p>
<p>On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put up in
the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by Ferapontov,
where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years.
Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's advice, had bought a wood
from the prince, had begun to trade, and now had a house, an inn, and a
corn dealer's shop in that province. He was a stout, dark, red-faced
peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a broad knob of a nose, similar
knobs over his black frowning brows, and a round belly.</p>
<p>Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing before
his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he went up to
him.</p>
<p>"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you have
come to it," said he.</p>
<p>"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych.</p>
<p>"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French."</p>
<p>"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych.</p>
<p>"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have been given
not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants are asking
three rubles for carting—it isn't Christian!"</p>
<p>Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for hay
for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed.</p>
<p>All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning Alpatych
donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on business. It was a
sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already hot. "A good day for
harvesting," thought Alpatych.</p>
<p>From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At eight
o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of musketry. Many
people were hurrying through the streets and there were many soldiers, but
cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at their shops, and service
was being held in the churches as usual. Alpatych went to the shops, to
government offices, to the post office, and to the Governor's. In the
offices and shops and at the post office everyone was talking about the
army and about the enemy who was already attacking the town, everybody was
asking what should be done, and all were trying to calm one another.</p>
<p>In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of people,
Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the porch he met
two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This man, an ex-captain of
police, was saying angrily:</p>
<p>"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One man
though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with thirteen in your
family and all the property... They've brought us to utter ruin! What sort
of governors are they to do that? They ought to be hanged—the
brigands!..."</p>
<p>"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other.</p>
<p>"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the ex-captain of
police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych.</p>
<p>"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?"</p>
<p>"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered Alpatych,
lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the bosom of his coat
as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... "He has ordered me to
inquire into the position of affairs," he added.</p>
<p>"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've brought
things to such a pass that there are no carts or anything!... There it is
again, do you hear?" said he, pointing in the direction whence came the
sounds of firing.</p>
<p>"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and
descended the porch steps.</p>
<p>Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were
tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. The door
of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved forward. An
official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called a stout official
with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and vanished again,
evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and questions addressed to
him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the official came out addressed
him, one hand placed in the breast of his buttoned coat, and handed him
two letters.</p>
<p>"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," he
announced with such solemnity and significance that the official turned to
him and took the letters.</p>
<p>A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly said to
him:</p>
<p>"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on the
highest instructions—here..." and he handed a paper to Alpatych.
"Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they should go to
Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..."</p>
<p>But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into the
room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face expressed
terror.</p>
<p>"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning the
officer.</p>
<p>Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when he came
out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the firing,
which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, Alpatych hurried to
his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor said this:</p>
<p>"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger as
yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with any. I from the one
side and Prince Bagration from the other are marching to unite our forces
before Smolensk, which junction will be effected on the 22nd instant, and
both armies with their united forces will defend our compatriots of the
province entrusted to your care till our efforts shall have beaten back
the enemies of our Fatherland, or till the last warrior in our valiant
ranks has perished. From this you will see that you have a perfect right
to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, for those defended by two such
brave armies may feel assured of victory." (Instructions from Barclay de
Tolly to Baron Asch, the civil governor of Smolensk, 1812.)</p>
<p>People were anxiously roaming about the streets.</p>
<p>Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept
emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets. Loaded
carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were wailing and
lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round barking in
front of the harnessed horses.</p>
<p>Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went
straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman was
asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the passage.
From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the despairing
sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of Ferapontov. The cook
began running hither and thither in the passage like a frightened hen,
just as Alpatych entered.</p>
<p>"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged her
about so!..."</p>
<p>"What for?" asked Alpatych.</p>
<p>"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says she,
'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, 'are all
gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began beating and pulling
her about so!"</p>
<p>At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to hear
more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where he had
left his purchases.</p>
<p>"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a baby in
her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through the door at
that moment and down the steps into the yard.</p>
<p>Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his
waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the
opposite room.</p>
<p>"Going already?" said he.</p>
<p>Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his packages
and asked how much he owed.</p>
<p>"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked
Ferapontov. "What has been decided?"</p>
<p>Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite.</p>
<p>"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd have to
pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them they're not
Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke last Thursday—sold
flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will you have some tea?" he
added.</p>
<p>While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over their
tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather for
harvesting.</p>
<p>"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, finishing his
third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the best of it. The
orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, it seems.... They say
the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove them into the river Marina and
drowned some eighteen thousand in one day."</p>
<p>Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who had come
in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, hoofs, and
bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed out.</p>
<p>It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in shadow, the
other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of the window and
went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a far-off whistling and
thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon blending into a dull roar
that set the windows rattling.</p>
<p>He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the bridge.
From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of cannon balls
and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds were hardly
heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside the town and
attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town was being
bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had ordered up after
four o'clock. The people did not at once realize the meaning of this
bombardment.</p>
<p>At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused curiosity.
Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing under the shed,
became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the gate, listening to
the sounds and looking in silence at the people.</p>
<p>The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively curiosity
everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over their
heads. Several people came round the corner talking eagerly.</p>
<p>"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to
splinters!"</p>
<p>"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another.</p>
<p>"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you jumped
aside, or it would have wiped you out!"</p>
<p>Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had fallen
on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now with the
swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the agreeable
intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads incessantly, but
not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych was getting into his
trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate.</p>
<p>"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red skirt,
with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped to the
corner to listen to what was being said.</p>
<p>"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she turned
back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.</p>
<p>Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping
downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the street,
something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.</p>
<p>"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to the
cook.</p>
<p>At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different
sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently with
pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was her
wailing.</p>
<p>"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good souls!..."</p>
<p>Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her thigh
broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen. Alpatych,
his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house porter were all
sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, the whistling of
projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which rose above the
other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The mistress rocked and hushed
her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked in a pathetic whisper
what had become of her husband who had remained in the street. A shopman
who entered told her that her husband had gone with others to the
cathedral, whence they were fetching the wonder-working icon of Smolensk.</p>
<p>Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar and
stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was clouded
with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon shone
strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a hush seemed
to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of footsteps, the
moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires which seemed
widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. On two sides
black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the fires. Through the
streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or ran confusedly in different
directions like ants from a ruined ant-hill. Several of them ran into
Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's eyes. Alpatych went out to the gate. A
retreating regiment, thronging and hurrying, blocked the street.</p>
<p>Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get away, get
away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted:</p>
<p>"I'll teach you to run into the yards!"</p>
<p>Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him to set
off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following Alpatych and the
coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, suddenly began to wail
as they looked at the fires—the smoke and even the flames of which
could be seen in the failing twilight—and as if in reply the same
kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of the street. Inside the
shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the tangled reins and traces of
their horses with trembling hands.</p>
<p>As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers in
Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and
knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov returned
and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about to shout at
them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, burst into sobs and
laughter:</p>
<p>"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, taking
some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street.</p>
<p>Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on filling
their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him:</p>
<p>"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on fire
myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard.</p>
<p>Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking it
completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait.
Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting till it
was possible to drive out.</p>
<p>Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone out
amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the Dnieper
Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were slowly moving
amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had to stop. In a side
street near the crossroads where the vehicles had stopped, a house and
some shops were on fire. This fire was already burning itself out. The
flames now died down and were lost in the black smoke, now suddenly flared
up again brightly, lighting up with strange distinctness the faces of the
people crowding at the crossroads. Black figures flitted about before the
fire, and through the incessant crackling of the flames talking and
shouting could be heard. Seeing that his trap would not be able to move on
for some time, Alpatych got down and turned into the side street to look
at the fire. Soldiers were continually rushing backwards and forwards near
it, and he saw two of them and a man in a frieze coat dragging burning
beams into another yard across the street, while others carried bundles of
hay.</p>
<p>Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn which was
blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back wall had fallen
in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters were alight. The crowd
was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, and Alpatych watched for
it too.</p>
<p>"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man.</p>
<p>"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately recognizing
the voice of his young prince.</p>
<p>Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was looking
at Alpatych from the back of the crowd.</p>
<p>"Why are you here?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. "Are we
really lost? Master!..."</p>
<p>"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated.</p>
<p>At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's pale
worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how difficult it
was to get away.</p>
<p>"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again.</p>
<p>Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his knee
began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his sister:</p>
<p>"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the enemy
within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at once when
you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh."</p>
<p>Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how to
arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the boy's
tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before he had had
time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of staff followed by a
suite galloped up to him.</p>
<p>"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German accent, in a
voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on fire in your presence
and you stand by! What does this mean? You will answer for it!" shouted
Berg, who was now assistant to the chief of staff of the commander of the
left flank of the infantry of the first army, a place, as Berg said, "very
agreeable and well en evidence."</p>
<p>Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to
Alpatych.</p>
<p>"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by the
tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall have to
throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills."</p>
<p>"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke because I
have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... You must please
excuse me," he went on apologetically.</p>
<p>Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and
wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another
terrible crash and something huge collapsed.</p>
<p>"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the collapsing roof
of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a cakelike aroma all
around. The flames flared up again, lighting the animated, delighted,
exhausted faces of the spectators.</p>
<p>The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted:</p>
<p>"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!"</p>
<p>"That's the owner himself," cried several voices.</p>
<p>"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as I
have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute beside
him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street.</p>
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