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63 lines
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63 lines
3.0 KiB
Plaintext
CHAPTER I
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"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the
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Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war,
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if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that
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Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have nothing more
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to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my 'faithful
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slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened
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you--sit down and tell me all the news."
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It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pavlovna
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Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna. With
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these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man of high rank and
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importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovna
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had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering from la
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grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used only by the
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elite.
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All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered
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by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows:
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"If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the
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prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible,
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I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10--Annette
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Scherer."
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"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the least
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disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an
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embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on
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his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that
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refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and
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with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance
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who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna,
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kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, and shining head,
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and complacently seated himself on the sofa.
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"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's mind
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at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the politeness and
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affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be
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discerned.
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"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like
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these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are staying the
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whole evening, I hope?"
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"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I must
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put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is coming for
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me to take me there."
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"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these
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festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome."
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"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been
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put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by force of habit
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said things he did not even wish to be believed.
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"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's
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dispatch? You know everything."
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"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, listless
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tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that Buonaparte has
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burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours."
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