Warrant Peace, Book 5, Chapter 11, read for LibriVox.org by Barney Shergold. Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest state of mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long of visiting his friend Dabalonsky, whom he had not seen for two years. Bogucharov lay in a flat, uninteresting part of the country among fields and forests of fur and birch, which are partly cut down. The house lay behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and with banks still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that stretched along the high road in the midst of a young copse in which were a few fir trees.  Round the house was a garden newly laid out. The fences and gates were new and solid. Two fire pumps and a water cart painted green stood in a shed. The paths were straight, the bridges were strong, and had handrails. Everything bore an impress of tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre met in reply to encourage as to where the prince lived, pointed out a small, newly built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked after Prince Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, said that the prince was at home and showed him into a clean little ante room. Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small, though clean house, after the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend in Petersburg. He quickly entered the small reception room with its still, unplasted wooden walls, rudolent of pine, and would have gone further, but Anton read ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door. Well, what is it? came a sharp, unpleasant voice. Our visitor answered Anton. Ask him to wait. And the sound was heard of a chair being pushed back. Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to face with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looked old. Pierre embraced him and lifting his spectacles, kissed his friend on the cheek and looked at him closely. Well, I did not expect you. I am very glad, said Prince Andrew. Pierre said nothing. He looked fixedly at his friend with surprise. He was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly and there was a smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and lifeless. And in spite of his evident wish to do so, he could not give them a joyous and glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, paler and more manly looking, but what a maze and a strange Pierre, till he got used to it, were his inertia and wrinkle on his brow, indicating prolonged concentration on some one thought. As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged separation, it was long before their conversation could settle on anything. They put questions and gave brief replies about things that they knew ought to be talked over at length. At last the conversation gradually settled on some of the topics that were first likely touched on. Their past life. Plans for the future. Pierre's journeys and occupations, the war and so on. The preoccupation and despondency which Pierre had noted in his friend's look was now still more clearly expressed in the smile with which he listened to Pierre. Especially when he spoke with joyful animation of the past or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would have liked to sympathise with what Pierre was saying but could not. The latter began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his enthusiasm, dreams and hopes of happiness or goodness in Prince Andrew's presence. He was ashamed to express his new masonic views, which had been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour. He checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a quite different and better Pierre than he had been in Petersburg. I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly know myself. Yes, we have altered much, very much since then, said Prince Andrew. Well, and you, what are your plans? Plans, repeated Prince Andrew ironically. My plans, he said as if astonished at the word. Well, you see, I'm building. I mean to settle here altogether next year. Pierre looked silently and certainly into Prince Andrew's face, which had grown much older. No, I mean to ask, Pierre began, but Prince Andrew interrupted him. But why talk of me? Talk to me? Yes. Tell me about your travels and all you have been doing on your estates. Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as far as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had been made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what he had been doing, as though it were an all-old time story. And he listened not only without interest, but even as if ashamed of what Pierre was telling him. Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company, and at last became silent. I'll tell you what, my dear fellow, said Prince Andrew, who evidently also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor. I am only bivouacking here and have just come to look around. I am going back to my sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of course you know her already, he said evidently trying to entertain a visitor with whom he now found nothing in common. We will go after dinner. Would you like now to look round my place? They went out and walked about till dinner time, talking of the political news and common acquaintances like people who do not know each other intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and interest only of the new homestead he was constructing and its buildings, but even here, while on the scaffolding, in the midst of a talk explaining the future arrangements of the house, he interrupted himself. However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and then we'll set off. At dinner conversation turned on Pierre's marriage. I was very much surprised when I heard of it, said Prince Andrew.  Forever, said Prince Andrew, nothing's forever. But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel, and so you had to go through that too. One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man, said Pierre.  No, no, no, to kill a man is bad, is wrong. Why is it wrong, urged Prince Andrew? It is not given to man to know what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will err, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong. What does harm to another is wrong, said Pierre, feeling with pleasure that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was roused, had begun to talk and wanted to express what had brought him to his present state. And who has told you what is bad for another man, he asked. Bad, bad? exclaimed Pierre. We all know what is bad for ourselves. Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is something I cannot inflict on others, said Prince Andrew, going more and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new outlook to Pierre. He spoke in French. I only know two very real evils in life, remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of those evils. To live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole philosophy now. And love for one's neighbour and self-sacrifice began Pierre. No, I can't agree with you. To live only so as not to do evil and not to have repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself and ruined my life, and only now when I am living or at least trying, Pierre's modesty made him correct himself, to live for others. Only now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall not agree with you, and you do not really believe what you are saying. Prince Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile. When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her, he said. Perhaps you are right for yourself, he added after a short pause. But everyone lives in his own way.  I experienced just the reverse. I lived for glory, and after all, what is glory? The same love of others, a desire to do something for them, a desire for their approval, so I lived for others and not almost but quite ruined my life. And I have become calmer since I began to live only for myself. But what do you mean by living only for yourself? Asked Pierre, growing excited. What about your son, your sister and your father? But that's just the same as myself. They are not others, explained Prince Andrew. The others, one's neighbours, Le Pranchin, as you and Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. Le Pranchin, your key of presence to whom you want to do good. And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He evidently wished to draw him on. You are joking, replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. What error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even doing a little, though I did very little and did it very badly? What evil can there be in if unfortunate people are serfs, people like ourselves, were growing up and dying with no idea of God and truth beyond ceremonies and meaningless prayers, and are now instructed in accompanying belief in a future life, retribution, recompense and a consolation? What evil and error are there in it if people were dying of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, hospital and an asylum for the aged? Anything not a palpable and questionable good if a peasant or a woman with a baby has no rest day or night and I give them rest and leisure? said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. And I have done that through badly and to a small extent, but I have done something toward it, and you cannot perthwaid me that it was not a good action. And more than that, you can't make me believe that you do not think so yourself. And the main thing is, he continued, that I know, and for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this is only sure happiness in life. Yes, but if you put it like that, it's quite a different matter, said Prince Andrew. I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime, but what's right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not by us. Well, you want an argument, he added. I'm on then. They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch, which served as a veranda. Come, let's argue then, said Prince Andrew. You talk of schools, he went on crooked your finger, education and so forth. That is, you want to raise him, pointing him to a peasant who passed by them, taking off his cap, from his animal condition, and awakened him in spiritual needs, while it seems to me that animal happiness is the only happiness possible, and that is just what you want to deprive him of. I envy him, but you want to make him what I am, without giving him my means. Then you say, lighten his toil. But as I see it, physical labour is as essential to him, as much as a condition of his existence, as mental activity is to you or me. You can't help thinking, I go to bed after two in the morning, thoughts come and I can't sleep a toss about till dawn, because I think and I can't help thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing. If he didn't, he would go to the drink shop, or for ill.  The third thing, what else was it that you talked about, and Prince Andrew crooked a third figure? Ah yes, hospitals, medicine.  He will drag about as a cripple, a burden to everybody for another ten years. It will be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being born, and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if you grud losing your labourer. That's how I regard him. But you want to cure him from love of him, and he does not want that. And besides, what a notion medicine ever cured anyone. Kill them, yes! said he frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre. Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that it was evident that he had reflected on the subject more than once, and he spoke readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long time. His glance became more animated and his conclusions became more hopeless. Oh that is dreadful, dreadful! said Pierre. I don't understand how one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long ago in Moscow, and when travelling, but at such times I collapsed so that I don't live at all. Everything seems hateful to me. Myself most of all. Then I don't eat, don't wash. And how is it with you? Why not wash? That is not cleanly, said Prince Andrew. On the contrary, one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. I am alive. That is not my fault. So I must live out my life as best as I can without hurting others. But with such ideas, what motive have you for living? One would sit without moving, undertaking nothing. Life as it is leaves no one peace. I should be thankful to do nothing, but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me the honour to choose me to be their marshal. It was all I could do to get out of it. They could not understand that I had not the necessary qualifications for it. The kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness necessary for the position. Then is this house, which must be built in order to have a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And now there's this recruiting. Why aren't you serving in the army? After our stalits, said Prince Andrew Glimely, no, thank you very much. I have promised myself not to serve again in the active Russian army, and I won't. Not even Bonaparte were here at Smolensk, threatening bald hills. Even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian army. Well, as I was saying, he continued recovering his composure. Now there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command of the Third District, and my only way of avoiding active service is to serve under him. Then you are serving? I am. He paused a little while. And why do you serve? Why, for this reason. My father is one of the most remarkable men of his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel, he has too energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited power that he is terrible, and now he has this authority of a commander-in-chief of the recruiting granted by the Emperor. If I had been two hours later fortnight ago, he would have had a paymaster's clerk at Yukanova hanged, said Prince Andrew with a smile. So I am serving because I alone have any influence with my father, and now and then can save him from actions which torment him afterwards. Well, there you see. Yes, but he is not as you imagine, Prince Andrew continued. I did not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who had stolen some boots on the recruits. I should even have been very glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father. That again is for myself. Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glitted feverishly, while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there was no desire to do good to his neighbour. There now, you wish to liberate your serfs, he continued. That is a very good thing. But not for you. I don't suppose you ever had anyone flugged or sent to Siberia, and still less for your serfs. If they are beaten, flugged or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are any worse off. In Siberia, they lead the same animal life, and the stripes on their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it is a good thing for the proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon themselves, stifle this remorse, and grow callous, as a result of being able to inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is though people I pity, and for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You may not have seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those traditions of unlimited power, in times when they grow more irritable, become cruel and harsh, and are conscious of it, but cannot restrain themselves and grow more and more miserable. Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking that there were thoughts that had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his father's case. He did not reply. So that's what I am sorry for. Human dignity, peace of mind, purity, and not the serfs' backs and foreheads which beat and shave as you may, always remain the same backs and foreheads. No, no, a thousand times no, I shall never agree with you, said Pierre. End of Chapter 11. Broke the silence now and then with remarks which showed that he was in a good temper. Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making in his husbandry. Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and apparently immersed in his own thoughts. He was thinking that Prince Andrew wasn't happy, had gone astray, did not see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, enlighten, and raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he should say, he felt that Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, would upset all his teaching, and he shrank from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible ridicule what to him was precious and sacred. No, but why do you think so? Pierre suddenly began, lowering his head and looking like a bull about to charge. Why do you think so? You should not think so. Think. What about? asked Prince Andrew with surprise. About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought like that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry. No, don't smile. Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it was. Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal aspects of humanity. And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity, freed from the bonds of state and church, a teaching of equality, brotherhood, and love. Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life. All the rest is a dream, said Pierre.  But make our fundamental convictions your own. Join our brotherhood, give yourself up to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once feel yourself as I have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible chain the beginning of which is hidden in heaven, said Pierre. Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence to Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels prevented his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it. And by the peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes, and by his silence Pierre saw that his words were not in vain, and that Prince Andrew would not interrupt him or laugh at what he said. They reached a river that had overflowed its banks, and which they had to cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed on it, they also stepped on the raft. Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed silently at the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun. Well, what do you think about it? Pierre asked. Why are you silent? What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It is all very well, you say, join our brotherhood, and we will show you the aim of life, the destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who are we? Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see what you see? You see a rain of goodness and truth on earth, but I don't see it. Pierre interrupted him. Do you believe in a future life? he asked. A future life? Prince Andrew repeated. But Pierre, giving him no time to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as he knew Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions. You say you can't see a rain of goodness and truth on earth, nor could I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the end of everything. On earth here on this earth, Pierre pointed to the fields, there is no truth, all is false and evil. But in the universe, in the whole universe, there is a kingdom of truth, and we, who are now the children of earth, are eternally children of the whole universe. Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast harmonious whole? Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between the lower and higher beings in this vast harmonious multitude of beings in whom the deity, the supreme power, if you prefer the term, is manifest? If I see, clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to man, why should I suppose it breaks off at me and does not go farther and farther? I feel that I cannot vanish since nothing vanishes in this world, but that I shall always exist and always have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me there are spirits, and that in this world there is truth. Yes, that is Herter's theory, said Prince Andrew, but it is not that which can convince me, dear friend. Life and death are what convince. What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one bound up with one's own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped to make it right. Prince Andrew's voice trembled, and he turned away. And suddenly that being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to exist. Why? It cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe there is. That's what convinces, and that is what has convinced me, said Prince Andrew. Yes, yes, of course, said Pierre. Isn't that what I'm saying? No. All I say is that it is not the argument that convinces me of the necessity of a future life, but this. When you go hand in hand with someone, and all that once that person vanishes there into nowhere, and you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in, and I have looked in. Well, that's it then. You know that there is a there, and there is a someone. There is the future life. The someone is God. Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long since been taken off, onto the Father Bank, and re-harnessed. The sun had sunk half below the horizon, and an evening frost was starring the puddles near the ferry. But Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment of the footmen, coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked. If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and man's highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in the hole, said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky. Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft, listening to Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the sun, gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering, It is true, believe it. He sighed and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior friend. Yes, if only it were so, said Prince Andrew, however it is time to get on, he added, and stepping off the raft he looked up at the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since Austerleets saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield, and something that had long been slumbering, something that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful, and youthful in his soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions of his life. But he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to develop existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince Andrew's life, though outwardly he continued to live in the same old way, inwardly he began a new life. End of Chapter 12 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording by LibriVox user, Great Plains. War and Peace. Book 5, Chapter 13. Red for LibriVox.org by Robbie Rogers It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the front entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the house, Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a commotion going on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet on her back, and a short, long-haired young man in a black garment, had rushed back to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two women ran out after them, and all four, looking around at the carriage, ran in dismay up the steps of the back porch. Those are Mary's godsfolk, said Prince Andrew. They have mistaken us for my father. This is the one matter in which she disobeys him. He orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she receives them. But what are godsfolk, asked Pierre? Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet them, and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was expected back soon. The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any minute. Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always kept in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house. He himself went to the nursery. Let us go and see my sister, he said to Pierre, when he returned. I have not found her yet. She's in hiding now, sitting with her godsfolk. It will serve her right. She will be confused. But you will see her godsfolk. It's really very curious. What are godsfolk, asked Pierre? Come, and you'll see for yourself. Princess Mary really was disconcerted, and red patches came on her face when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before the icon stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing a monk's cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near them, in an armchair, sat a thin, shriveled old woman, with a meek expression on her childlike face. Andrew, why didn't you warn me? said the princess with mild reproach, as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her chickens. Chame de vous voir, je suis très content de vous voir, she said to Pierre, as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, and now his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, and above all his kindly simple face, disposed her favorably toward him. She looked at him with her beautiful radiant eyes, and seemed to say, I like you very much, but please don't laugh at my people. After exchanging the first greetings, they sat down. Delighted to see you, I am very glad to see you. Ah, and Ivanishka is here too, said Prince Andrew, glancing with a smile at the young pilgrim. Andrew said Princess Mary imploringly. Il vaut que vous sauchez, qu'il sait une femme, said Prince Andrew to Pierre. Andrew, un nom de Dieu, Princess Mary repeated. You must know that this is a woman, for heaven's sake. It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone towards the pilgrims, and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them, were their customary long-established relations on the matter. Mais, ma bonne amie, said Prince Andrew, vous devrez au contraire mettre reconnaissance de ce jeu-splique à Pierre votre intimé avec ce jeune homme. But my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man. Really, said Prince Andrew, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and seriousness, for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him. Into Ivanishka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, looked around at them all with crafty eyes. Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, lowering her eyes, but casting side glances at the newcomers, had turned her cup upside down, and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and sat quietly in her armchair, though hoping to be offered another cup of tea. Ivanishka, sipping out of her saucer, looked with sly womanish eyes from under her brows at the young man. Where have you been, to Kiev, Prince Andrew asked the old woman? I have, good sir, she said, garelessly. Just at Christmas time I was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at the Shrine of the Saint. And now I'm from Kolyatsyn, Master, where a great and wonderful blessing has been revealed. And was Ivanishka with you? I go by myself, benefactor, said Ivanishka, trying to speak in a base voice. I only came across Pelasia and Yuk Novo. Pelasia interrupted her companion. She evidently wished to tell what she had seen. In Kolyatsyn, Master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed. What is it, some new relics? asked Prince Andrew. Andrew, do leave off, said Princess Mary. Don't tell him, Pelasia. No, why not, my dear? Why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind. He is one of God's chosen. He is a benefactor. He once gave me ten rubles, I remember. When I was in Kiev, crazy Cyril says to me, he is one of God's own and goes barefoot summer and winter, he says, why are you not going to the right place? Go to Kolyatsyn, where a wonder-working icon of the Holy Mother of God has been revealed. On hearing those words I said good-bye to the holy folk and went. All were silent. Only the pilgrim woman went on and measured tones, drawing in her breath. So I come, Master, and the people say to me, a great blessing has been revealed. Holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our Blessed Mother, the Holy Virgin Mother of God. All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards, said Princess Mary, flushing. Let me ask her, said Pierre. Did you see it yourselves, he inquired? Oh, yes, Master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the face, like the light of heaven. And from the Blessed Mother's cheek it drops and drops. Ah, dear me, that must be a fraud, said Pierre naively, who had listened attentively to the pilgrim. Oh, Master, what are you saying? exclaimed the horrified palatia turning to Princess Mary for support. They impose on the people, he repeated. Lord, Jesus Christ exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing herself. Oh, don't speak so, Master. There was a general who did not believe and said, the monk's cheat. And as soon as he'd said it, he went blind. And he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev catacombs came to him and said, Believe in me, and I will make you whole. So he begged, take me to her, take me to her. It's the real truth I'm telling you, I saw it myself. So he was brought, quite blind, straight to her, and he goes up to her and falls down and says, Make me whole, says he, and I'll give you what the Tsar bestowed on me. I sought myself, Master. The star is fixed into the icon. Well, and what do you think? He received his sight. It's a sin to speak so God will punish you, she said, admonishingly, turning to Pierre. How did the star get into the icon? Pierre asked. And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general, said Prince Andrew with a smile? Pelasia suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands. Oh, Master, Master, what a sin! And you who have a son, she began. Her pal are suddenly turning to a vivid red. Master, what have you said? God forgive you. And she crossed herself. Lord forgive him. My dear, what does it mean, she asked, turning to Princess Mary. She got up, and almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She evidently felt frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in such a house, where such things could be said, and was at the same time sorry to have now to forego the charity of this house. Now, why need you do it, said Princess Mary? Why did you come to me? Come, Pelasia, I was joking, said Pierre. I did not mean anything. I was only joking, he said, smiling shyly, and trying to efface his offense. It was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking. Princess on my word, I did not wish to offend her. Pelasia stopped doubtfully. But in Pierre's face there was such a look of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at her, and now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured. War and Peace Book 5 Chapter 14. Read for LibriVox.org by Robbie Rogers The pilgrim woman was appeased, and, being encouraged to talk, gave a long account of Father Amphilicus, who led so holy a life that his hand smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with the saints.  Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went out of the room, and then, leaving God's folk to finish their tea, Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing-room. You are very kind, she said to him. Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them so well, and have the greatest respect for them. Princess Mary looked at him silently, and smiled affectionately. I have known you a long time, you see, and Am has fond of you as of a brother, she said. How do you find Andrew, she added hurriedly, not giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. I am very anxious about him. His health was better in the winter, but last spring his wound reopened, and the doctor said he ought to go away for a cure. I am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has not a character like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our sorrows. He keeps it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in good spirits. But that is the effect of your visit. He is not often like that. If you could persuade him to go abroad, he needs activity, and this regular quiet life is very bad for him. Others don't notice it, but I see it. Towards ten o'clock the men's servants rushed to the front door, hearing the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince Andrew and Pierre also went out into the porch. Who's that? asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out of the carriage. Ah, very glad. Kiss me, he said, having learned who the young stranger was. The old prince was in a good temper, and very gracious to Pierre. Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, found him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining that a time would come when there would be no more wars. The old prince disputed it chafingly, but without getting angry. Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then there will be no more war. Old women's nonsense, old women's nonsense, he repeated, but still he padded Pierre affectionately on the shoulder. And then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, evidently not wishing to join in the conversation, was looking over the papers his father had brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to talk business. The marshal, Account Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He came to town and wanted to invite me to dinner. I gave him a pretty dinner. And there, look at this. Well, my boy. The old prince went on, addressing his son and padding Pierre on the shoulder. A fine fellow, your friend, I like him. He stirs me up. Another says clever things, and one doesn't care to listen. But this one talks rubbish, yet stirs an old fellow up. Well, go. Get along. Perhaps I'll come and sit with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make friends with my little fool, Princess Mary, he shouted after Pierre through the door. Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the strength and charm of this friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm was not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his family and with a household. With a stern old prince and the gentle timid Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre at once felt like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. Not only Princess Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the pilgrims, gave him her most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old Prince Nicholas, as his grandfather called him, smiled at Pierre and let himself be taken in his arms. And Mikhail Ivanovitch and Mademoiselle Boreen looked at him with pleasant smiles when he talked to the old prince. The old prince came into supper. This was evidently on Pierre's account. And during the two days of the young man's visit, he was extremely kind to him, and told him to visit them again. When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met together, they began to express their opinions of him, as people always do after new acquaintances left. But as seldom happens, no one said anything but what was good of him. United him to Denizov and the whole regiment. On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his home in Moscow. When he saw the first Tzar with the unbuttoned uniform of his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and saw the picket ropes of the ron horses, when Lavruska gleefully shouted to his master, The Count has come! And Denizov, who had been asleep on his bed, ran all de-shelled out of the mud hut to embrace him, and the officers collected round to greet the new arrival. Rostov experienced the same feeling his mother, his father, and his sister had embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not speak. The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and precious as his parents' house. When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment, and had been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had gone out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little interests of the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and bound in one narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense of peace, of moral support, and the same sense being at home here in his own place as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was none of all that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not know his right place, and took mistaken decisions. Here was no Sonya with whom he ought, or ought not, to have an explanation. Here was no possibility of going there or not going there. Here there were not twenty-four hours in the day which could be spent in such a variety of ways. There was not that innumerable crowd of people of whom not one was nearer to him or farther from him than another. There were none of those uncertain and undefined money relations with his father, and nothing to recall that terrible loss to Dolochov. Here, in the regiment, all was clear and simple. The whole world was divided into two unequal parts. One, our Pavlograd regiment, the other, all the rest. And the rest was no concern of his. In the regiment, everything was definite. Who was lieutenant? Who captain? Who was a good fellow? Who a bad one? And most of all, who was a comrade? The canteen keeper gave one credit. Once pay came every four months, there was nothing to think out or decide. You had only to do nothing that was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment, and, when given an order, to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely ordered, and all would be well. Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this regimental life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on lying down to rest. Life in the regiment during this campaign was all the pleasenter for him, because after his loss to Dolochov, for which, in spite of all his family's efforts to console him, he could not forgive himself, he had made up his mind to atone for his fault by serving, not as he had done before, but really well, and by being a perfectly first-rate comrade and officer, in a word, a splendid man altogether, a thing which seemed so difficult out in the world, but so possible in the regiment. After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his parents in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now resolved to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the debt to his parents. Our army, after repeated retreats and advances, and battles at Poltusk and Preysachealau, was concentrated near Bartonstein. It was awaiting the emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new campaign. The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of the campaign. It had been neither at Poltusk nor at Preysachealau, and, when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the campaign, was attached to Platov's division. Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several times, parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal Udino's carriages. In April, the Pavlograds were stationed immovably for some weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German village. A thaw had set in. It was muddy and cold. The ice on the river broke, and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions for the men nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no transports could arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and deserted villages searching for potatoes, but found few even of these. Everything had been eaten up, and the inhabitants had all fled, if any remained. They were worse than beggars, and nothing more could be taken from them. Even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead of taking anything from them, often gave them the last of their rations. The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but had lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the hospitals, death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever or the swelling that came from bad food preferred to remain on duty, and hardly able to drag their legs went to the front rather than to the hospitals. When spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just showing out of the ground that looked like asparagus, which for some reason they called muska's sweet root. It was very bitter, but they wandered about the field seeking it and dug it out with their savers and ate it, though they were ordered not to do so as it was a noxious plant. That spring a new disease broke out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs, and face, which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite of all this, the soldiers of Denyslaw Squadron fed chiefly on muska's sweet root, because it was the second week that the last of the biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man, and the last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen. The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the thatched roofs, and had become terribly thin, though still covered with tufts of felty winter hair. Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living just as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, the Hazars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed their horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from thatched roofs in place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the cauldrons from which they rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food and their hunger. As usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, steamed themselves before them naked, smoked, picked out, and baked, sprouting rotten potatoes, told and listened to stories of Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to legends of Alisha the Sly, or the priest's laborer, Makolka. The officers, as usual, lived in tufts and threes in the ruthless half-ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes, and in general food for the men. The younger ones occupied themselves as before, some playing cards, there was plenty of money, though there was no food, some with more innocent games, such as coits and skittles. The general trend of the campaign was rarely spoken of, partly because nothing certain was known about it, partly because there was a vague feeling that in the main it was going badly. Rostov lived, as before, with Denysov, and since their furlough they had become more friendly than ever. Denysov never spoke of Rostov's family, but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, Rostov felt that the elder Huzar's luckless love for Natasha played a part in strengthening their friendship. Denysov evidently tried to expose Rostov to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action greeted his safe return with evident joy. On one of his foraging expeditions, in a deserted and ruined village to which he had come in search of provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old pole and his daughter with an infant in arms. They were half-clad, hungry, two-week to get away on foot, and had no means of obtaining a conveyance. Rostov brought them to his quarters, placed them in his own lodging, and kept them for some weeks while the old man was recovering. One of his comrades, talking of women, began chaffing Rostov, saying that he was more wily than any of them, and that it would not be a bad thing if he introduced to them the pretty Polish girl he had saved. Rostov took the joke as an insult, flared up, and said such unpleasant things to the officer that it was all Denysov could do to prevent a duel. When the officer had gone away, Denysov, who did not himself know what Rostov's relations with the Polish girl might be, began to upbraid him for his quickness of temper, and Rostov replied, Say what you like. She is like a sister to me, and I can't tell you how it offended me, because, well, for that reason, Denysov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling.  In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, but Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at Bartonstein, as the Pavlogrods were at the outposts far beyond that place. They were bivouacking. Denysov and Rostov were living in an earth hut, dug out for them by the soldiers, and roofed with branches and turf. The hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into vogue. A trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet, eight inches deep, and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were cut out, and these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself was the room in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, had a board lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance to serve as a table. On each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth of about two and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof was so constructed that one could stand up in the middle of the trench, and could even sit up on the beds if one drew close to the table. Denysov, who was living luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron liked him, had also a board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece of broken but mended glass in it for a window. When it was very cold, embers from the soldier's campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron on the steps in the reception room, as Denysov called that part of the hut, and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there are always some with Denysov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves. In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between 7 and 8, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed his rain-soaked underclothes, set his prayers, drank tea, got warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days for his last reconnoitering expedition and was awaiting Denysov, who had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted to talk. Suddenly he heard Denysov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut, evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he was speaking to and saw the quartermaster, Topchinko. I ordered you not to let them eat that moshka wood stuff, Denysov was shouting, and I saw with my own eyes how Lazarkchuk brought some from the fields. I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don't obey, answered the quartermaster. Rostov laid down again on his bed and thought complacently.  He could hear that Lavrushka, that sly, bold orderly of Denysovs, was talking, as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying something about loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone out for provisions. Then Denysov's voice was heard shouting, farther and farther away. Saddle, second platoon! Were they off to now? thought Rostov. Five minutes later, Denysov came into the hut, climbed with muddy boots on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things about, took his leaded whip, buckled on his savor, and went out again. In answer to Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered vaguely and crossly that he had some business. Let God and our great monarch judge me afterwards, said Denysov going out, and Rostov heard the hooves of several horses splashing through the mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denysov had gone. Having got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not leave the hut till toward evening. Denysov had not yet returned. The weather had cleared up, and near the next hut, two officers and a cadet were playing Sveka, laughing as they threw their missiles which buried themselves in the soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers saw some wagons approaching with fifteen hizars and their skinny horses behind them. The wagons escorted by the hizars, drew up to the picket ropes, and a crowd of hizars surrounded them. There now, Denysov has been worrying, said Rostov, and here are the provisions. So they are, said the officers. Won't the soldiers be glad? A little behind the hizars came Denysov, accompanied by two infantry officers with whom he was talking. Rostov went to meet them.  You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny, seizing the transport of one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two days, and mine have had nothing for two weeks, said Denysov. It is robbery. You'll answer for it, sir, said the infantry officer, raising his voice. Now, what are you pestering me for? cried Denysov, suddenly losing his temper. I shall answer for it, and not you, and you'd better not buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off. Go! he shouted at the officers. Very well then, shouted the little officer, undaunted, and not riding away. If you are determined to rob, I'll go to the devil, quick mach, while you're safe and sound. And Denysov turned his horse on the officer. Very well, very well, muttered the officer, threateningly, and turning his horse, he trotted away, jolting in his saddle.  I've taken transports from the infantry by force, he said. After all, can't let our men starve. The wagons that had reached the Hazars had been consigned to an infantry regiment, but learning from Lavushka that the transport was unescorted, Denysov and his Hazars had seized it by force. The soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared them with the other squadrons. The next day the regimental commander sent for Denysov, and holding his fingers spread out before his eyes, said, This is how I look at this affair. I know nothing about it and won't begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle the business there in the commissariat department, and, if possible, sign a receipt for such and such stores received. If not, as the demand was booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a row, and the affair may end badly. From the regimental commanders, Denysov rode straight to the staff with a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he came back to his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen him in. Denysov could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov asked what was the matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and threats in a horse-feeble voice. Alarmed at Denysov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor. Twy me for wobbly. Oh, some more water. Let them twy me. I'll always thrash scoundrels. And I'll tell the emperor I— he muttered. The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to bleed Denysov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm, and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him. I get there, began Denysov. Now then, where's your chief's quarters? They were pointed out. Pleased to wait. I've ridden twenty miles and have duties to attend to, and no time to wait. Announce me. Very well. So out comes their head chief. Also took it into his head to lecture me. It's wobbly. Wobbly, I say, is not done by a man who sees his provisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to fill his own pockets. Will you please be silent? Very good. Then he says, go and give a receipt to the commissioner, but your fare will be passed on to headquarters. I go to the commissioner, I enter, and at the table, who do you think? No, but wait a bit. Who is it that's starving us? shouted Denysov, hitting the table with the fist of his newly bled arm, so violently that the table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped about. Tell Janin, what? So it's you who's starving us to death, is it? Take this, and this, and I hit him so pat, straight on his snout. Ah, what a, what a, and I started flashing him. Well, I've had a bit of fun, I can tell you, cried Denysov, gleeful and yet angry, his white teeth showing under his black mustache. I'd have killed him if they hadn't taken him away. But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself, said Rostov. You've set your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again. Denysov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day, he woke calm and cheerful. But at noon, the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and Denysov's dugout with a grave and serious face, and regretfully showed them a paper addressed to Major Denysov from the regimental commander in which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. The adjutant told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad turn that a court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the severity with which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, degradation to the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for. The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that after seizing the transports, Major Denysov, being drunk, went to the chief quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, threatened to strike him, and unbeing let out had rushed into the office and given two officials a thrashing and dislocated the arm of one of them. In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denysov said, laughing, that he thought he remembered that some other fellows had got mixed up in it, but that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not in the least fear any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels dared attack him, he would give them an answer that they would not easily forget. Denysov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew him too well not to detect that while hiding it from others. At heart, he feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices from the court arrived, and on the 1st of May, Denysov was ordered to hand the squadron over to the next insinuity and appear before the staff of his division to explain his violence at the commissariat office. On the previous day, Platov reconnoitred with two Cossack regiments and two squadrons of his ours. Denysov, as was his want, rode out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A bullet fired by a French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of his leg. Perhaps at another time, Denysov would not have left the regiment for so slight a wound, but now he took advantage of it to excuse himself from appearing at the staff and went into hospital. End of Chapter 16, Recording by Roger Maline War and Peace Book 5, Chapter 17 Read for LibriVox.org by Roger Maline In June, the Battle of Freeland was fought, in which the Pavlogradz did not take part, and after that an armistice was proclaimed. Rostov, who felt his friend's absence very much, having no news of him since he left and feeling very anxious about his wound and the progress of his affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get leave to visit Denysov in hospital. The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice devastated by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when it was so beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a particularly dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its foul streets, tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken soldiers wandering about. The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window frames and panes broken, and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged soldiers, with pale, swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in the sunshine in the yard. Directly Rostov entered the door. He was enveloped by a smell of putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs, he met a Russian army doctor, smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian assistant. I can't tear myself to pieces, the doctor was saying. Come to Makar Aleksevich in the evening. I shall be there. The assistant asked some further questions. Oh, do the best you can. Isn't it all the same? The doctor noticed Rostov coming upstairs. What do you want, sir? Said the doctor. What do you want? The bullets having spared you. Do you want to try typhus? This is a pest house, sir. How so? asked Rostov. Typhus, sir, it's death to go in. Only we two, Makayev and I, he pointed to the assistant, keep on here. Some five of us doctors have died in this place. When a new one comes, he is done for in a week. Said the doctor, with evident satisfaction. Prussian doctors have been invited here, but our eyes are still open. The doctor said, doctors have been invited here, but our allies don't like it at all. Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the Hazars, who was wounded. I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think. I am alone in charge of three hospitals with more than 400 patients. It's well that the charitable Prussian lady send us two pounds of coffee and some lint each month, or we should be lost. He laughed. Four hundred, sir, and they're always sending me fresh ones. There are four hundred, eh? He asked, turning to the assistant. The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and impatient for the talkative doctor to go. Major Denisov, Rostov said again, he was wounded at Molitan. Dead, I fancy, eh? Makayev, queried the doctor in a tone of indifference. The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words. Is he tall and with reddish hair? Asked the doctor. Rostov described Denisov's appearance. There was one like that, said the doctor, as if pleased. That one is dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. Have you got it, Makayev? Makar Daliksevich has the list, answered the assistant. But if you'll step into the officer's wards, you'll see for yourself, he added, turning to Rostov. Ah, you better not go, sir, said the doctor, or you may have to stay here yourself. But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the assistant to show him the way. Only don't blame me, the doctor shouted up after him. Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell was so strong here that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and collect his strength before he could go on. A door opened to the right and an emaciated salo man on crutches, barefoot and in underclothing, limped out and leaning against the door post, looked with glittering envious eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at the door, Rostov saw that the sick and wounded were lying on the floor on straw and overcoats. May I go in and look? What is there to see? said the assistant. But just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in, Rostov entered the soldier's ward. The foul air, to which he had already begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It was a little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where it originated. In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large windows, the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to the walls and leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were unconscious and paid no attention to the newcomers. Those who were conscious raised themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces and all looked intently at Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, reproach, and envy of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of the room and looking through the open doors into the two adjoining rooms saw the same thing there. He stood still, looking silently around. He had not at all expected such a sight. Just before him, almost across the middle of the passage on the bare floor, lay a sick man, probably a cossack to judge by the cut of his hair. The man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs outstretched His face was purple, his eyes were rolled back so that only the whites were seen, and on his bare legs and arms, which were still red, the veins stood out like cords.  Rostov listened and made out the word. It was, Drink, drink, a drink. A drink. Rostov glanced round, looking for someone who would put this man back in his place and bring him water. Who looks after the sick here? He asked the assistant. Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from the next room, marching stiffly and drew up in front of Rostov.  Get him to his place and give him some water, said Rostov, pointing to the Cossack. Yes, your honor, the soldier replied complacently and rolling his eyes more than ever, he drew himself up still straighter but did not move. No, it's impossible to do anything here, thought Rostov, lowering his eyes and he was going out, but became aware of an intense look fixed on him on his right and he turned. Close to the corner, on an overcoat, sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier as thin as a skeleton with a stern, shallow face and eyes intently fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor on one side whispered something to him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed that the old man wanted to speak to him. He drew near and saw that the old man had only one leg bent under him, the other had been amputated above the knee. His neighbor on the other side who lay motionless some distance from him with his head thrown back was a young soldier with a snub nose.  Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran down his back. Why, this one seems, he began turning to the assistant and how we've been begging, Your Honor, said the old soldier, his jaw quivering. He's been dead since morning. After all, we're men, not dogs. I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away, taken away at once, said the assistant hardly. Let us go, Your Honor. Yes, yes, let us go, said Rostov hastily and lowering his eyes and shrinking. He tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of reproachful envious eyes that were fixed upon him and went out of the room. End of Chapter 17 Recording by Roger Maline The first person Rostov met in the officer's ward was a thin middleman with one arm who was walking about the first room in a nightgap in hospital dressing gown with a pipe between his teeth. Rostov looked at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before. See where we've met again, that little man. Tashin, Tashin, don't you remember who gave you a lift at John Grubbin?  He went on with a smile pointing to the empty sleeve of his dressing gown. Looking for Vasily Dmitrov Dinesov. My neighbor added when he heard who Rostov wanted. Yeah, yeah, and Tashin let him into the next room from whence came sounds of several laughing voices. How can they laugh or even live at all ear thought, Rostov? Still aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong in the soldier's ward and still seeming to see fixed on him. Those envious looks which had followed him out from both sides in the face of that young soldier with eyes rolled back. Dinesov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, although it was nearly noon. Oh, Rostov, how are you? How are you, called out, still in the same voice as in the regiment? But Rostov noticed sadly that under this habitual ease and animations of news sinister hidden feeling showed itself in the expression of Dinesov's face and the intonations of his voice. His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now six weeks after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen valor as the faces of the other hospital patients, but it was not that that struck Rostov. What struck him was that Dinesov did not seem glad to see him and smiled at him. Unnaturally, he did not ask about the regiment nor about the general state of affairs, and when Rostov spoke of these matters did not listen. Rostov even noticed that Dinesov did not like to be reminded of the regiment or in general of that other free life which was going on outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood he at once produced from under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the stinging rejoinders he made to his enemies his hospital companions who had gathered round Rostov. A fresh arrival from the world outside gradually began to disperse as soon as Dinesov began reading his answer. Rostov noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had already heard that story more than once and were tired of it. Only the man who had the next bed a stout Ullin continued to sit on his bed gloomily frowning and smoking a pipe and little one armed dush and still listened shaking his head disapprovingly. In the middle of the reading the Ullin interrupted Dinesov but what I say is he said turning to Rostov it would be best simply to petition the emperor for pardon they say great rewards will now be distributed and surely a pardon would be grounded. Me petition the emperor exclaimed Dinesov in a voice to which he tried hard to give the old energy in fire but which sounded like an expression of irritable impotence. What for? If I were a Wabba I would ask mercy but I am being caught Marshall for bringing Wabbas to book let them try me. I'm not afraid of anyone I've served the Tsar and my country honorably and have not stolen and am I to be degraded? Listen I'm waiting to them to wait this is what I say if I had Wabbed it was we it's certainly well written said Dushan but that's not the point Vasili Dmitrov and he also turned to Rostov one asked to submit and Vasili Dmitrov doesn't want to you know the auditor told you it was a bad business well let it be bad said Dinesov the auditor wrote out a petition for you continued Dushan and you ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it no doubt he indicating Rostov has connections on the staff you won't find a better opportunity haven't I said I'm not going to guavele? Dinesov interrupted him went on reading his paper Rostov had not the courage to persuade Dinesov though he instinctively felt that the way advised by Dushan and the other officers was the safest and though he would have been glad to be of service to Dinesov he knew his stubborn will and straightforward hasty temper when the reading of Dinesov's virulent reply which took more than an hour was over Rostov said nothing and he spent the rest of the day in a most dejected state of mind amid Dinesov's hospital comrades who had round him telling them what he knew and listening to their stories Dinesov was moodily silent all the evening late in the evening when Rostov was about to leave he asked Dinesov whether he had no commission for him yes wait a bit said Dinesov glancing round at the officers and taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window where he had an ink pot and sat down to write it seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall he said coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope and it was the petition to the emperor drawn up by the auditor and which Dinesov without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat officials simply asked for pardon handed in it seems he did not finish but gave a painfully unnatural smile end of chapter 18 War and Peace book 5 chapter 19 read for LibriVox.org by Eva Harnick having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state of Dinesov's affairs Rostov wrote to Telsit with the letter to the emperor on the 13th of June the French and Russian emperors arrived in Telsit Boris Trubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom he was in attendance to include him in the suite appointed for the stay at Telsit I should like to see the great man he said alluding to Napoleon whom hitherto he like everyone else had always called Bonaparte you are speaking of Bonaparte asked the general smiling Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that he was being tested I am speaking Prince of the Emperor Napoleon he replied the general patted him on the shoulder with a smile you'll go far he said and took him to Telsit with him Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two emperors met he saw the raft decorated with monograms saw Napoleon pass before the French guards on the father bank of the river saw the pensive face of the emperor Alexander as he sat in silence in a tavern on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's arrival saw both emperors get into boats and saw how Napoleon reaching the raft first stepped quickly forward to meet Alexander and held out his hand to him and how they both retired into the pavilion since he had begun to move in the highest circles Boris had made it his habit to watch attentively all that went on around him and to note it down at the time of the meeting at Telsit he asked the names of those who had come with Napoleon and about the uniforms they wore and listened attentively to words spoken by important personages at the moment the emperors went into the pavilion he looked at his watch and did not forget to look at it again when Alexander came out the interview had lasted an hour and 53 minutes he noted this down that same evening among other facts he felt to be of historic importance as the emperor's suite was a very small one it was a matter of great importance for a man who valued his success in the service to be at Telsit on the occasion of this interview between the two emperors and having succeeded in this Boris felt that henceforth his position was fully assured he had not only become known but people had grown accustomed to him and accepted him twice he had executed commissions to the emperor himself so that the latter knew his face and all those at court far from court shouldering him as at first when they considered him a newcomer would now have been surprised had he been absent Boris lodged with another adjutant the Polish Count Shilinski Shilinski a Paul brought up in Paris was rich and passionately fond of the French and almost every day of the stay at Telsit French officers of the guard and from French headquarters were dining and lunching with him and Boris on the evening of the 24th of June Count Shilinski arranged the supper for his French friends the guest of honour was an aducum of Napoleons there were also several French officers of the guard and the page of Napoleons a young lad of an old aristocratic French family that same day Rostov profiting by the darkness to avoid being recognized in civilian dress came to Telsit and went to the lodging occupied by Boris and Shilinski Rostov in common with the whole army from which he came was far from having experienced the change of feeling to Napoleon and the French who from being foes had suddenly become friends that had taken place at headquarters and in Boris in the army Bonaparte and the French were still regarded with mingled feelings of anger contempt and fear only recently talking with one of Plato's Cossack officers Rostov had argued that if Napoleon were taken prisoner he would be treated not as a sovereign but as a criminal quite lately happening to meet a wounded French colonel on the road Rostov had maintained with heat the peace was impossible between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal Bonaparte Rostov was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of French officers in Boris's lodging dressed in uniforms he had been accustomed to see from quite a different point of view from the outposts of the flank as soon as he noticed the French officer who trust his head out of the door that warlike feeling of hostility which he always experienced at the sight of the enemy suddenly ceased him he stopped at the threshold and asked in Russian where the drubetzkoi lived there Boris hearing a strange voice in the enter room came out to meet him an expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face on first recognizing Rostov oh it is you very glad very glad to see you he said however coming toward him with a smile but Rostov had noticed his first impulse I have come at a bad time I think I should not have come but I have business he said coldly no I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment down some moment just we are who in a minute I shall be at your disposal he said answering someone who called him I see I am intruding Rostov repeated the look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris's face having evidently reflected and decided how to act he very quietly took both Rostov's hands and led him into the next room his eyes looking serenely and steadily at Rostov seemed to be veiled by something as if screened by blue spectacles of conventionality so so it seemed to Rostov oh come now as if you could come at the wrong time said Boris and he led him into the room where the sub-table was laid and introduced him to his guests explaining that he was not a civilian but a Hussar officer and an old friend of his Kaun Cilinski Le Comte NN Le Capitan SS said he naming his guests Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchman bowed reluctantly and remained silent Cilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov Boris did not appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and with the same pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with which he had met Rostov tried to enliven the conversation one of the Frenchmen with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen addressed the obstinately taciturn Rostov saying that the latter had probably come to Tilsit to see the emperor No, I came on business replied Rostov briefly Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look of dissatisfaction on Boris's face and as always happens to those in a bad humor it seemed to him that everyone regarded him as a version and that he was in everybody's way he really was in their way for he alone took no part in the conversation which again became general the looks the visitors cast on him seemed to say and what is he sitting here for he rose and went up to Boris anyhow I am in your way he said in a low tone come and talk over my business and I will go away oh no not at all said Boris but if you are tired come and lie down in my room and have a rest yes really they went into the little room where Boris slept Rostov without sitting down began at once irritably as if Boris were to blame in some way telling him about Denisov's affair asking him whether through his general he could and would intercede with the emperor on Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in when he and Boris were alone Rostov felt for the first time that he could not look Boris in the face without a sense of awkwardness Boris with one leg crossed over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender fingers of his right listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a subordinate now looking aside now gazing straight into Rostov's eyes with the same wailed look each time this happened Rostov felt uncomfortable and cast down his eyes I have heard of such cases and know that his majesty is very severe in such a fast I think it would be best not to bring it before the emperor but to apply to the commander of the corpse but in general I think so you don't want to do anything well then say so Rostov almost shouted not looking Boris in the face Boris smiled on the contrary I will do what I can only I thought at that moment Gelinsky's voice was heard calling Boris well then go go go said Rostov and refusing supper and remaining alone in the little room he walked up and down for a long time hearing the light hearted french conversation from the next room end of chapter 19 recording by Ava Harnik Bontevedra, Florida war and peace book 5 chapter 20 recording by Ava Harnik Rostov had come to Tilset the day least suitable for a petition on Denisov's behalf he could not himself go to the general in attendance as he was in Mufti and had come to Tilset without permission to do so and Boris even had he wished to could not have done so on the following day on that day June 27 the preliminaries of peace were signed the emperor's exchange decorations Alexander received the cross of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon of the Order of Saint Andrew of the first degree and the dinner had been arranged for the evening given by a battalion of the french guards to the Priobragensk battalion the emperors were to be present at that banquet Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that when the latter looked enough to supper he pretended to be asleep and early next morning went away avoiding Boris in his civilian clothes and the round hat he wondered about the town staring at the French and their uniforms and at the streets and houses where the Russian and French emperors were staying in a square he saw tables being set up and preparations made for the dinner he saw the Russian and French colors draped from side to side on the streets with huge monograms A and N in the windows of the houses also flags and panting were displayed Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him that is settled so Nicholas all is over between us but I won't leave here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not without getting his letter to the emperor the emperor is here St. Rostov who had unconsciously returned to the house where Alexander lodged settled horses were standing before the house and the suite were assembling evidently preparing for the emperor to come out I may see him at any moment St. Rostov if only I were to hand the letter direct to him and tell him all could they really arrest me for my civilian clothes surely not he would understand on whose side justice lies he understands everything knows everything who can be more just more magnanimous than he and even if they did arrest me for being here what would it matter sought he looking at an officer who was entering the house the emperor occupied after all people do go in it is all nonsense I will go in and hand the letter to the emperor myself so much the worst for Drubetskoy who drives me to it and suddenly with a determination he himself did not expect Rostov felt for the letter in his pocket and went straight to the house No, I won't miss my opportunity now as I did after Osterlitz he sought expecting every moment to meet the monarch and conscious of the blood that rushed to his heart at the sword I will fall at his feet and beseech him he will lift me up will listen and will even thank me I am happy when I can do good but to remedy injustice is the greatest happiness Rostov fancied the sovereign saying and passing people who looked after him with curiosity he entered the porch of the emperor's house a broad staircase led straight up from the entry and to the right he saw a closed door below under the staircase was a door leading to the law whom do you want? someone inquired to hand in a letter a petition to his majesty said Nicholas with a tremor in his voice a petition this way to the officer on duty he was shown the door leading downstairs only it won't be accepted on hearing this indifferent voice Rostov grew frightened what he was doing the sort of meeting the emperor at any moment was so fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run away but the official who had questioned him opened the door and Rostov entered a short stout man of about 30 in white bleaches and high boots and a batiste shirt that he had evidently only standing in that room and his valley was buttoning on to the back of his breeches a new pair of handsome silk embroidered braces that for some reason attracted Rostov's attention this man was speaking to someone in the adjoining room a good figure and in her first bloom he was saying Rostov he stopped short and frowned what is it? a petition? what is it? asked the person in the other room another petitioner answered the man with the braces tell him to come later he will be coming out directly we must go later later tomorrow it is too late Rostov turned and was about to go and stopped him whom have you come from? who are you? I come from Major Denisov answered Rostov are you an officer? Lieutenant Count Rostov what audacity hand it in through your commander and go along with you go and he continued to put on the uniform the valley handed him Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there were many officers and generals in full parade uniform whom he had to pass cursing his temerity his heart thinking at the thought of finding himself at any moment face to face with the emperor and being put to shame and arrested in his presence fully alive now to the impropriety of his conduct and repenting of it Rostov with downcast eyes was making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a familiar voice called him and the hand detained him what are you doing here sir? in civilian dress asked a deep voice it was a cavalry general who had obtained the emperor's special favor during this campaign and who had formally commanded the division in which Rostov was serving Rostov in dismay began justifying himself but seeing the kindly jocular face of the general he took him aside and in an excited voice told him the whole affair asking him to intercede for denisov whom the general knew having heard Rostov to the end the general shook his head gravely I am sorry sorry for that fine fellow give me the letter hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining denisov's case when hasty steps and the jingling of spas were heard on the stairs and the general leaving him went to the porch the men of the emperor's suit run down the stairs and went to their horses Hain, the same groom who had been at Osterlitz led up the emperor's horse and the faint creak of a footsteps new at once was heard on the stairs forgetting the danger of being recognized Rostov went close to the porch together with some inquisitive civilians and again up the two years saw those features he adored that same face and same look and step and the same union of majesty and mildness and the feeling of enthusiasm and love for his sovereign rose again in Rostov's soul in all its old force in the uniform of the obragensk regiment white chamois leather breeches and high boots and wearing a star Rostov did not know it was that of the legion doneur the monarch came out into the porch putting on his gloves and carrying his hat under his arm he stopped and looked about him brightening everything around by his glance he spoke a few words to some of the generals and recognizing the former commander of Rostov's division smiled and beckoned to him all the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for some time to the emperor the emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his horse again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers among whom was Rostov moved nearer to the emperor stopping beside his horse with his hand on the saddle the emperor turned to the cavalry general and said in a loud voice evidently wishing to be heard by all I cannot do it general I cannot because the law is stronger than I and he raised his foot to the stirrup the general bowed his head respectfully and the monarch mounted and rode down the street at a gallop beside himself with enthusiasm Rostov ran after him with the crowd end of chapter 20 recording by Eva Harnick Pontevedra, Florida where, where, facing one another a battalion of the Pryobrasensk regiments stood on the right and a battalion of the French guards in their bearskin caps on the left SSR rode up to one flank of the battalions which presented arms another group of horsemen galloped up to the opposite flank and at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon it could be no one else he came at a gallop wearing a small hat a blue uniform over a white vest and the St. Andrew Ribbon over his shoulder he was riding a very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse with a crimson, gold embroidered saddlecloth on approaching Alexander he raised his hat and as he did so Rostov with his Calvary Manzai could not help noticing that Napoleon did not sit well or firmly in the saddle the battalion shouted Hurrah! and Vive L'Empereur Napoleon said something to Alexander and both emperors dismounted and took each other's hands Napoleon's face wore an unpleasant and artificial smile Alexander was saying something affable to him in spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes horses which were pushing back the crowd Rostov kept his eye on every movement of Alexander and Bonaparte it struck him as a surprise that Alexander treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease with the Tsar as if such relations with the emperor were an everyday matter to him Alexander and Napoleon with a long train of their sweets approached the right flank of the pre-Obrahens battalion and came straight up to the crowd standing there the crowd unexpectedly found itself so close to the emperors that Rostov standing in the front row was afraid he might be recognized Sire I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the bravest of your soldiers with an undersized voice articulating every letter this was said by the undersized Napoleon looking up straight into Alexander's eyes Alexander listened attentively to what was said to him and, bending his head, smile pleasantly to him who was born himself most bravely in this last war, added Napoleon accentuating every syllable as with a composure and assurance exasperating to Rostov he ran his eyes over the Russian ranks before him who all presented arms with their eyes fixed on their emperor will your majesty allow me to consult the colonels said Alexander and took a few hasty steps towards Prince Koslovsky the commander of the battalion Bonaparte, meanwhile, began taking the glove off his small wide hand tore it in doing so and threw it away a knade to camp behind him rushed forward and picked it up to whom shall it be given the emperor Alexander asked Koslovsky in a low voice to whomever your majesty commands the emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and glancing back remarked but we must give him an answer Koslovsky scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in a scrutiny can it be me thought Rostov Lazarev the colonel crawled with a frown and Lazarev the first soldier in the rank stepped briskly forward where you off to stop here voices whispered to Lazarev who did not know where to go Lazarev stopped casting the side long look at his colonel in alarm his face twitched as often happens to soldiers called before the ranks Napoleon slightly turned his head and put his plump little hand out behind him as if to take something the members of his suite guessing at once what he wanted moved about and whispered as they went into another and a page the same one Rostov had seen the previous evening at Boris's ran forward and bowing respectfully over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a moment laid in it an order on a red ribbon Napoleon without looking pressed two fingers together and the badge was between them then he approached Lazarev who rolled his eyes and persistently gazed at his own monarch Alexander to imply that what he was doing was done for the sake of his ally and the small white hand holding the order touched one of Lazarev's buttons. It was as if Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his hand to deign to touch that soldier's breast for the soldier to be forever happy rewarded and distinguished from everyone else in the world. Napoleon merely laid the cross on Lazarev's breast and dropping his hand turned towards Alexander as though sure that the cross would adhere there and it really did. Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross and fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little man with the white hands who was doing something to him and still standing motionless presenting arms looked again straight into Alexander's eyes as if asking whether he should stand there but receiving no orders he remained for some time in that rigid position. The emperors remounted and rode away. The pre-oprahensk battalion, breaking rank, mingled with the French guards and sat down at the tables prepared for them. Lazarev sat in place of honour. Russian and French officers embraced him, congratulated him and pressed his hands. Crowds of officers and civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble flash and Russian voices and laughter filled the air around the tables in the square. Two officers with flush faces, looking cheerful and happy, passed by Rostov. What do you think of the treat? All on silver plate, one of them was saying. Have you seen Lazarev? I have. Tomorrow I hear the pre-oprahenskis will give them a dinner. Yes, but what luck for Lazarev? 1,200 francs pension for life. Donning a shaggy French cap. It's a fine thing, first rate. Have you heard the password, asked one guard's officer of another? The day before yesterday it was Napoleon, France, Bravour. Yesterday, Alexander, Lucie, Grandeur. One day our emperor gives it and the next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our emperor will send a St. George's cross to the bravest of the French guards. It has to be done. He must respond in kind. Boris, too, with his friend Zelinsky, came to see the pre-oprahenskis banquet. On his way back he noticed Rostov standing by the corner of a house. Rostov, how do you do? We missed one another, he said, and could not refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and troubled was Rostov's face. Nothing, nothing, replied Rostov. You'll call around? Yes, I will. Rostov's time, watching the feast from a distance, in his mind a painful process was going on which he could not bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in his soul. Now he remembered Denizov with his changed expression, his submission, and the whole hospital with arms and legs torn off in its dirt and disease. So vividly did he recall a hospital stench of dead flesh that he looked round to see from.  Then why those severed arms and legs and those dead men? Then again he thought of Lazarov rewarded and Denizov punished and unpardoned. He caught himself harboring such strained thoughts that he was frightened. The smell of the food of the Pryobrohenskis were eating and a sense of hunger recalled him from those reflections. He had to get something to eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning. There he found so many people, among them officers who, like himself, had come in civilian clothes that he had difficulty in getting a dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The conversation naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his comrades, like most of the army, were dissatisfied with the peace after the Battle of Freeland. They said that had we held out a little longer Napoleon would have been done for, as his troops had neither provisions nor ammunition. Nicholas ate and drank, chiefly the latter, in silence. He finished a couple of bottles of wine by himself. The process in his mind went on tormenting him without reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to his thoughts, yet could not get rid of them. Suddenly on one of the officers saying that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov began shouting with uncalled for wrath and therefore much to the surprise of the officers. How can you judge what's best, he cried, the blood suddenly rushing to his face. How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What right have we to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's aims or his actions. But I never said a word about the Emperor, said the officer, justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except on the supposition that he was drunk. But Rostov did not listen to him. We're not diplomatic officers, we're soldiers and nothing more, he went on. If we're ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, it means that we have deserved it. It's not for us to judge. If the Emperor pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an alliance with him, it means that it is the right thing to do. If once we begin judging and arguing nothing sacred will be left. That way we shall be saying there is no God, nothing, shouted Nicholas, banging the table, very little to the point as it seemed to his listeners, but quite relevantly to the courses of his own thoughts. Our business is to do our duty, to fight, and not to think, that's all, he said. And to drink, said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel. Yes, and to drink, ascended Nicholas. Hello there, another bottle, he shouted. In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview with the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg there was much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting. End of Chapter 21 War and Peace Book 5, Chapter 22 Read for LibreWox.org by Reiner In 1809 the intimacy between the world's two nations, as Napoleon and Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on Austria a Russian corpse crossed the frontier to cooperate with our old enemy Bonaparte against our old ally, the Emperor of Austria. And in court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and one of Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations of foreign policy the attention of Russian society was at that time keenly directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken in all the departments of government. Life, meanwhile real life with its essential interests of health and sickness, toil and rest and its intellectual interests in thought, science poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred and passions went on as usual, independently of and apart from political friendship or enmity with Napoleon Bonaparte


Hello and welcome to the session. I am Deepika here. Let's discuss the question. Solve system of linear equations using matrix method 2x minus y is equal to minus 2, 3x plus 4y is equal to 3. Solution. The given system of equations can be written in the form Ax is equal to b where a is equal to 2 minus 1, 3, 4, x is equal to xy, b is equal to minus 2 and 3. See that determinant of a is equal to a plus 3 which is equal to 11. This implies determinant a is not equal to 0. Hence this non-singular inverse exists. Now we will first find out the inverse. For inverse, we will find out adjoint of a. So adjoint a can either be found by taking the co-factor of each element and then form the matrix using the co-factors and then taking its transpose or we can find by interchanging the elements a11 and a22 that is adjoint a is equal to and changing the sign of these two elements that is 1 and minus 3. Now we know that a inverse is equal to 1 over determinant a into adjoint a. This implies a inverse is equal to 1 over 11 into 4, 1 minus 3, 2. Now we have written our given system of linear equation in the form Ax is equal to b. Pre-multiply by a inverse we get a inverse Ax is equal to a inverse b. This implies is equal to a inverse b which is equal to a inverse is of 1 over 11, 4 minus 3, 1, 2 into b is our minus 2, 3. This is equal to 4 into minus 2. This is minus a plus 3 and minus 3 into minus 2, 6 plus 6. This implies our x is, xy is equal to 1 by 11 minus 5 and 12. So by quitting the corresponding elements we get x is equal to minus 5 by 11 and y is equal to 12 by 11. Hence we have solved the above system of linear equations using map technique and our answer is x is equal to minus 5 by 11 and y is equal to 12 by 11. I hope the question is clear to you. Bye and have a good day.


Highbridge, a division of recorded books, presents Assembling Life, How Can Life Begin on Earth and Other Habitable Planets, by David Deemer, read by Stephen R. Thorne. Preface In 1964, long before the Internet gave instant access to the accumulated knowledge of humankind, it was necessary to actually visit a library full of books, thumb through a thick volume of chemical abstracts to find the desired citation, and then trudge up several flights of stairs to crack open the bound volume in which the desired paper was embedded. The article I wanted was in archives of biochemistry and biophysics, and while leafing through the pages, I happened to see the title, Synthesis of Purines Under Possible Primitive Earth Conditions. As a novice biochemist, I knew that purines were components of nucleic acids, but I had never before heard the phrase Primitive Earth. What could that mean? I began to read and was fascinated. Someone named John Oro at the University of Houston had discovered that adenine was a pentamer of hydrogen cyanide, and that this simple reaction could have provided one of the essential nucleobases required for life to begin. My curiosity satisfied, I found the paper I needed, took notes by hand because photocopiers had not yet been invented, and then returned to the lab where I was studying how calcium ions interact with fatty acid monolayers. I would never have imagined that fifteen years later I would be visiting Oro in Houston and writing a paper with him on how lipid membranes could have been involved in life's beginning. The study of life's origins was, in the 1960s and 1970s, on the fringes of scientific research, and may still be yet, although inroads are being made. As I went through post-doctoral studies at University of California, Berkeley, and then began my academic career at UC Davis, I did not give it another thought. The topic was definitely not something a young assistant professor who wanted to impress senior colleagues and be awarded a tenured position should get interested in. Instead my research was focused on biological membranes of mitochondria, chloroplasts, and sarcoplasmic reticulum, using the new technique of freeze fracture electron microscopy to study their structure and function. By 1975 I was a tenured associate professor and decided to celebrate by taking a sabbatical to learn more about the membrane models called liposomes. These models Sample complete. Ready to continue?