Війна і мир

Chapter 1

           

           TheTorzhókpeddlerwoman,inawhiningvoice,wentonofferingherwares,especiallyapairofgoatskinslippers.“IhavehundredsofrublesIdon’tknowwhattodowith,andshestandsinhertatteredcloaklookingtimidlyatme,”hethought.“Andwhatdoesshewantthemoneyfor?Asifthatmoneycouldaddahair’sbreadthtohappinessorpeaceofmind.Cananythingintheworldmakeherormelessapreytoevilanddeath?—deathwhichendsallandmustcometodayortomorrow—atanyrate,inaninstantascomparedwitheternity.”Andagainhetwistedthescrewwiththestrippedthread,andagainitturneduselesslyinthesameplace.

           Hisservanthandedhimahalf-cutnovel,intheformofletters,byMadamedeSouza.HebeganreadingaboutthesufferingsandvirtuousstrugglesofacertainEmiliedeMansfeld.“Andwhydidsheresistherseducerwhenshelovedhim?”hethought.“GodcouldnothaveputintoherheartanimpulsethatwasagainstHiswill.Mywife—assheoncewas—didnotstruggle,andperhapsshewasright.Nothinghasbeenfoundout,nothingdiscovered,”Pierreagainsaidtohimself.“Allwecanknowisthatweknownothing.Andthat’stheheightofhumanwisdom.”

           Everythingwithinandaroundhimseemedconfused,senseless,andrepellent.YetinthisveryrepugnancetoallhiscircumstancesPierrefoundakindoftantalizingsatisfaction.

           “Imakeboldtoaskyourexcellencytomovealittleforthisgentleman,”saidthepostmaster,enteringtheroomfollowedbyanothertraveler,alsodetainedforlackofhorses.

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