Briggs: They talk confidingly of women and love. A small fire is visible.
Pevear and Volokhonsky: Pierre and Captain Ramballe talk over dinner. Pierre loses his resolve to kill Napoleon.
Translation:
XXIX.
When the French officer together with Pierre entered in the room, Pierre considered it his duty again to assure the captain that he was not French and wanted to leave, but the French officer did not want to hear about this. He was before to such an extent courteous, kind, good-natured and truly grateful for the salvation of his life that Pierre did not have the spirit to refuse him and sat down together with him in the hall, in the first room in which they entered. To the statement of Pierre that he was not French, the captain, obviously not understanding how it could be to refuse from such a flattering title, shook his shoulders and said that should he indispensably want to have a reputation for a Russian, then let this be so, but that he all the same, despite that, all so the same for centuries was bound with him by a feeling of thanks for the salvation of his life.
If this person would have been gifted though some ability to understand the feeling of others and would have guessed about the sensations of Pierre, Pierre probably would have gone from him; but the lively impermeability of this human to all that what was not he himself, conquered Pierre.
— French or Russian prince incognito,816 — said the Frenchman, although looking around at the dirty, but thin linen of Pierre and the ring on his hand. — I must give you my life and I offer you friendship. The French do not forget either insults, neither services. I offer you my friendship. I will speak nothing more.817
To the sounds of the voice, to the expression of the face, to the gestures of this officer was so much good nature and nobleness (in the French sense), that Pierre, answering the unconscious smile to the smile of the Frenchman, shook his outstretched hand.
— Captain Rambal, 13 light regiment, admirer of the honor legion for the business of the 7th of September,818 — he recommended with a complacent, irrepressible smile, which wrinkled his lips under his mustache. — Whether you will be so kind to say to me now, with whom I have the honor to speak so nicely, instead so that to be on the dressing room point with a bullet of this crazy in my body.819
Pierre responded that he may not say his name and, blushing, started, trying to dream up a name to speak about the reasons, by which he may not say this, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him.
— Please,— he said. — I understand you, you are an officer... a staff-officer, maybe. You served against us. — This is not my business. I must give you my life. This is pretty to me and all of you. Are you a nobleman?820 he added with tint of the issue. Pierre tipped his head. — Your name? I ask nothing more. Sir Pierre, you tell me? Perfect. This is all that I need.821
When was brought mutton, omelette, samovar, vodka and wine from Russian cellars, which with himself brought the Frenchman, Rambal asked Pierre to accept participation to this dinner and immediately again himself, greedily and fast, as a healthy and hungry person, began to eat, fast chewing with his own strong with teeth, incessantly smacking his lips and saying: wonderful, capital!822 His face flushed and covered then. Pierre was hungry and with pleasure accepted participation to dinner. Morel, the valet, brought a saucepan with warm water and put on it a bottle of red wine. Besides this he brought a bottle with kvass, which he for samples took to the kitchen. This drink was already famous in French and received a name. They called it kvass limonade de cochon (pork lemonade), and Morel praised this limonade de cochon (pork lemonade), which he found in the kitchen. Yet so as at the captain was wine, mined in transition through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and took for a bottle of bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle by the neck in a napkin and poured himself and Pierre wine. The quenching of hunger and wine still more revived the captain, and he, not ceasing, talked in the time of dinner.
— Yes, my kind, sir Pierre, I must put for you a kind candle for that you saved me from this rabid one. With me, whether you see those pretty bullets, which are in my body. That one (he pointed out at his side) under Wagram, another under Smolensk.— he showed the scar on his cheek. — But this leg, you see, does not want to move. This was at the big battle of the 7th under Moscow. Ah! This was wonderful! It was needed to see, this was a flood of fire. You assigned us a difficult job, I may praise. And God, despite this trump (he pointed out at a cross), I would be ready to start it alll again. I regret those, which have not seen this.
— I was there,— said Pierre.
— Bah, is this in fact the case? By it better.— continued the Frenchman. — You are dashing enemies, it is needed to admit. Well held the big redoubt, damn take it. And the same expensive you made us pay. I was there three times, as you see me. Three times we were at the cannons, three times you overturned us, as card soldiers. Your grenadiers were gorgeous, God. I saw as their ranks six times closed up, and as they came forward for sure on parade. Marvelous people! Our Neapolitan king, which in these deeds is a dog, shouted to them: bravo! — Ha, ha, so you are our brother soldier! — he said after a minute of silence. — By better, by better, Sir Pierre. Scary in battles, kind with beauties, — he winked with a smile, — that’s the French, Sir Pierre. Whether it is not really?823
To such the extent the captain was naively and good-naturedly happy, whole, and satisfied by himself, Pierre little by little himself did not wink, funnily looking at him. Probably the word "galant" (kind) brought the captain to the idea about the position of Moscow.
— By the way, say please, whether it is really that all the women left from Moscow? Strange thought, what were they afraid?
— Is it really French ladies would leave from Paris, would Russians enter it?824 — said Pierre.
—Ha — ha — ha!.. — The Frenchman funnily, sanguinely burst out laughing, ruffling by the shoulder of Pierre. — But that said piece.— he spoke. — Paris?... But Paris... Paris…
— Paris — the capital of the world...825 — said Pierre, finishing his speech.
The captain looked at Pierre. He had the habit in mid conversation to stay and look intently with laughing, affectionate eyes.
—Well, if you would not have told me that you are Russian, I would beat about a pledge that you are a Parisian. In you there is something, this...826 — and, saying this compliment, he again silently looked.
— I was in Paris, I spent there whole years,— said Pierre.
— Ah, this is seen. Paris!... People, who do not know Paris — savages. Parisians are recognized for two miles. Paris — this is Talma, Duchenois, Potier, Sorbonne, the boulevards… 827 — and noticing that the conclusion was weaker than the previous, he hastily added: — In all the world is one Paris. You were in Paris and stayed Russian. Well what the same, I do not have less respect for you.828
Under the influence of the drunk wine and after the days, carried out in solitude with his own gloomy thoughts, Pierre felt involuntary pleasure in the conversation with this fun and good-natured man.
— But let’s go back to your ladies; they say that they are very beautiful. What for a stupid thought to go bury oneself in the steppe, when the French army is in Moscow! They missed a wonderful case. Your men, I understand, but you — educated people must know us better than this. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw, and all the capitals of the world. You fear us, but love us. It is not harmful to know us closer. And then the Emperor...829 — he started; but Pierre interrupted him.
— The Emperor... — repeated Pierre, and his face suddenly accepted a sad and confused expression. — What Emperor?..830
— The Emperor? This is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius — that such is the Emperor! This I, Rambal, speak to you. This is how you see I was his enemy eight years back. My father was a count and emigrant. But he conquered me, this person. He took possession of me. I could not resist before the spectacle of greatness and fame which he covered France. When I got what he wanted to do, when I saw that he prepared for us a bed of laurels, I said to myself: that is a sovereign, and I gave it back to him. And that! Oh yes, my dear, this is the greatest person of past and future centuries.
— What is he in Moscow?831 — hesitating and with a criminal face said Pierre.
French looked at the criminal face of Pierre and grinned.
— No, he makes his entry tomorrow.832 — he said and continued his stories.
Their conversation was interrupted by the screaming of several voices at the gate and the arrival of Morel, who came to declare to the captain that had arrived Wurtemberger hussars and they wanted to set horses in that same yard in which were standing the horses of the captain. The difficulty was happening predominantly because of how the hussars did not understand what was said to them.
Captain told to the elder noncommissioned-officer himself and in a strict voice asked him which regiment he belonged to, who was his chief, and at which foundation he allowed himself to occupy an apartment which was already busy. To the first two issues the German, badly understanding French, called his regiment and his chief; but at the last question he, not realizing it, inserting broken lines of French words in German speech, responded, that he was the lodger of the regiment, and that he was ordered from the chief to occupy all homes under the row. Pierre, knowing German, led across the captain that what spoke the German and the answers of the captain were delivered in German to the Virtemberg hussar. Realizing that what was said to him, the German surrendered and took away their people. The captain got out to the porch, and in a loud voice gave back some orders.
When he returned back in the room, Pierre sat in the same location where he sat before, lowering his hand on his head. His face expressed suffering. He really suffered in this moment. When the captain got out and Pierre stayed alone, he suddenly came to his senses and realized that position in which he was found out. Not that Moscow was taken, and not that these happy winners were hosted in it and patronized him, as heavily was felt this by Pierre, not this tormented him in the real moment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his weakness. A few drunk glasses of wine, a conversation with this good-natured man destroyed the focused and dark location of spirit in which lived Pierre in this last day, and which was necessary for the execution of his intentions. The pistol, dagger and army jacket were ready, Napoleon entered tomorrow. Pierre exactly so the same counted it useful and worthy to kill the villain; but he felt that now he would not do this. Why? He did not know, but as if foresaw that he would not carry out his intentions. He fought against the consciousness of his weakness, but vaguely felt that he would not overcome it, that the former dark building thoughts about revenge, homicide and self-sacrifice scattered as dust in the touches of the first human.
The captain, a little limping and whistling something, entered in the room.
The before amusing to Pierre chatter of the Frenchman now seemed to him disgusting. And the whistled song, gait, gesture and twisting mustache, all seemed now offensive to Pierre.
"I now will leave, or I will not say one more word more with him," thought Pierre. He thought this, but between that sat all in the same location. Some strange feeling of weakness chained him to his place: he wanted to and could not get up and leave.
The captain, the opposite, seemed very happy. He walked two times by the room. His eyes shone, and his mustache a little twitched, as if he smiled with himself some amusing fiction.
— A lovely— he said suddenly, — colonel this Wurttembergtsev! He is German; but a little nice despite this. But German.833
He sat down against Pierre.
— By the way, do you know German?834
Pierre watched him silently.
— How in German do you say refuge?835
— Asile (Refuge)? — repeated Pierre. — Refuge? Refuge in German — Unterkunft. 836
— How do you speak?837—suspiciously and fast asked again Captain.
— Unterkunft, — repeated Pierre.
— Onterkoff, — said the captain and a few seconds of laughing eyes watched Pierre. — What fools are these Germans. Whether it is not true, monsieur Pierre?838 — he concluded.
—Well, another bottle of this Moscow bordeaux, whether or not? Morel will warm us another bottle. Morel!839 — funny shouted Captain.
Morel gave candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre in the light, and he apparently was struck by the disturbed face of his interlocutor. Rambal with sincere chagrin and participation on his face came up to Pierre and bent down above him.
— What the same is this sadness?840— he said, touching Pierre behind the arm. — Maybe I upset you? No, whether in the fact of the case you have something against me? — he asked again. — Maybe, regarding provisions?841
Pierre did not respond, but affectionately watched the eye of the Frenchman. This expression of participation was nice to him.
— Word of honor, do not say already about it then, I must to you feel friendship. Whether or not I do for you something? Position me. This is on life and death. I speak this to you, placing hand on heart,842 — he said, hitting himself on the chest.
— Merci (Thanks), — said Pierre. The captain looked intently at Pierre so the same as he watched when he found out how refuge was called in German, and his face suddenly came out.
— But, in such a case, pour for our friendship!843 — he funnily shouted, pouring two glasses of wine. Pierre took a poured glass and drank it. Rambal drank it, shook another time the hand of Pierre and in a thoughtful melancholic pose leaned on the table.
— Yes, my friend, that is the wheel of fortune,— he started. — Who would have said that I will be a soldier and captain of dragoons in service of Bonaparte, as we happened to call him. However the same that I am in Moscow with him. I need to say to you, my dear,844 — he continued in a sad and measured voice of a man, which collects telling a long story, — that our name is one of the most ancient in France.845
And with easy and naive frankness the Frenchman captain told Pierre the story of his ancestors, his childhood, adolescence and manhood, all his kindred, property and family relationships. "My poor mother"846 played, of course, an important role in this story.
But in all this there is only an introduction in life, the essence of it is this same — love. Love! Whether it is not really, monsieur Pierre! — he said perking up. —More cups.847
Pierre again drank and poured himself a third.
— Oh women, women!848 — and the captain, his shiny eyes looking at Pierre, started to speak about love and about his love adventures. They were very many, why it was easy to believe, looking at the smug, beautiful face of the officer and at the enthusiastic revitalization with which he spoke about women. Despite that, how all the amorous history Rambal had that character of dirty tricks in which the French see exceptional beauty and the poetry of love, the captain talked of his history with such a sincere conviction that he alone experienced and got to know all the charms of love, and so luringly described the women, that Pierre with curiosity listened to it.
It was obvious that the love,849 which so love the French, was not that inferior and simple family love, which Pierre felt at some time to his wife, or that inflates to himself romantic love which he felt to Natasha (both families of this love Rambal equally despised —one was the love of cabbies, the other the love of the more foolish,);850 l’amour (the love), which worshipped the Frenchman, concluded predominantly in unnatural relationships to women and in the combinations of ugliness that gave the main beauty of feeling.
So the captain told the touching story of his love to one charming 35 year old marquise and at that same time to a lovely, innocent, 17 year-old child, the daughter of the charming marquise. A fight of generosity between the mother and daughter, ended by that the mother, sacrificing herself, proposed to her daughter to be the wife of her lover, still and now, although already a long time ago verified memory, worried the captain. Then he told one episode, in which the husband played the role of lover, but he (the lover) the role of the husband, and a few comic episodes from memories about Germany where asile (refuge) means Unterkunft, where the husbands eat cabbage soup and where the young girls are too blond.851
Finally the last episode in Poland, still fresh in the memory of the captain, which he talked with fast gestures and a flaming out face, consisted in that he saved the life of one Pole (in all the stories the episode of the captain saving lives was met incessantly) and this Pole entrusted to him his charming wife (a Parisian heart)852 in that time as he himself entered in the French service. The captain was happy, the charming Pole wanted to run with him; but, moved by the generosity, the captain returned to husband the wife, in this saying to him: I saved your life and save your honor!853 repeating these words, the captain rubbed his eyes and shook himself, as would be driving away from himself his embracing of weakness at this touching recollection.
Listening to the stories of the captain, as this often is in late evening time and under the influence of wine, Pierre watched for all that what spoke the captain, understanding all and together with that watching for nearby personal memories, suddenly for some reason appeared in his imagination. When he listened to these stories of love, his own love to Natasha suddenly was remembered by him and, sorting out in his imagination the picture of this love, he mentally compared his stories with Rambal. Keeping behind the story about the long struggle with love, Pierre saw before himself all the slightest details of his last meeting with the subject of his love at Suharev tower. Then this meeting did not produce in him an influence; he even not once remembered about her. Yet now to him it seemed that this meeting had something very significant and poetic.
"Petr Kirilych, come here, I recognized you," — he heard now the said by her words, saw before himself her eyes, smile, road cap, broken strands of hair... and something touching, moving presented to him in all that.
Graduating his story about the charming Pole, the captain turned to Pierre with the issue, whether he felt like that sense of self-sacrifice for love and envy to the rightful husband.
Called by this issue, Pierre raised his head and felt miserable to express the occupying him thought; he began to explain how he otherwise understood love to a woman. He said that he in all his life loved and loves only one woman and that this woman never may belong to him.
— I see you!854 — said the captain.
Then Pierre explained that he loved this woman with the most youthful years; but not daring to think about her because of how she was too young, and he was an unlawful son without name. Then again, when he received name and wealth, he did not dare to think about her, because of how he also loved her, too highly set her above all in the world and because by that more above himself. Reaching to this place of his story, Pierre turned to the captain with the issue: whether he understands this?
The captain made a gesture, expressing that should he not understand, then he all the same asked to continue.
— Platonic love, clouds...855 — he muttered. Whether the drunk wine or the need for frankness, or the idea that this person knows and recognizes nobody of the acting persons of his history or all together, untied the tongue of Pierre. And he with a mumbling mouth and shiny eyes, looking somewhere far away, told all his story: his getting married, the story of the love of Natasha to his best friend, her treason, and all his not complicated relationship with her. Caused by the questions of Rambal, he told what he hid first — his position in the world and even opened to him his name.
More only from the story of Pierre struck the captain that Pierre was very rich, that he had two palaces in Moscow and that he threw all and did not leave from Moscow, but stayed in the city, hiding his name and rank.
Now late at night they together came out to the street. The night was warm and bright. The left from the home brightened a glow of the first started in Moscow, at Petrovka, fire. To the right stood the high young sickle moon, and at the opposite from the moon side hung that bright comet, which was connected in the soul of Pierre with his love. At the gate were standing Gerasim, the cook and two Frenchmen. Were heard their laugh and conversation in the incomprehensible for each other languages. They looked at the glow seen in the city.
Nothing scary was in the not big distant fire in the huge city.
Looking at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet and at the glow, Pierre felt joyful affection. "Well here as okay, what more is needed?" he thought. And suddenly, when he remembered his intention, his head spun, making him bad, so that he leaned to the fence, so that to not fall.
Not saying goodbye with his new friend, Pierre with unsteady steps walked away from the gate and, returning to his room, lied down on the sofa and immediately the same was asleep.
816 Français ou prince russe incognito, (French or Russian prince incognito,)
817 Je vous dois la vie et je vous offre mon amitié. Un Français n’oublie jamais ni une insulte ni un service. Je vous offre mon amitié. Je ne vous dis que ça. (I owe you my life and I offer you my friendship. A Frenchman never forgets an insult or a service. I offer you my friendship. I'm only telling you that.)
818 Capitaine Ramball du 13-me léger, décoré pour l'affaire du Sept, (Captain Ramball of the 13th light, decorated for the Affair of the Seventh,)
819 Voudrez vous bien me dire à présent, à qui j'ai l'honneur de parler aussi agréablement au lieu de rester à l'ambulance avec la balle de ce fou dans le corps. (Would you like to tell me now, to whom I have the honor to speak so agreeably instead of staying in the ambulance with that madman's bullet in my body.)
820 De grâce, Je comprends vos raisons, vous êtes officier... officier supérieur, peut-être. Vous avez porté les armes contre nous. — Ce n'est pas mon affaire. Je vous dois la vie. Cela me suffit. Je suis tout à vous. Vous êtes gentilhomme? (Please, I understand your reasons, you are an officer... a senior officer, maybe. You bore arms against us. - This is not my business. I owe you my life. That's sufficient for me. I am all yours. You are a gentleman?)
821 Votre nom de baptême, s'il vous plaît? Je ne demande pas davantage. M-r Pierre, dites vous... Parfait. C’est tout ce que je désire savoir. (Your baptismal name, please? I'm not asking for more. Mr. Pierre you say? Perfect. This is all I want to know.)
822 excellent, exquis! (excellent, exquisite!)
823 Oui, mon cher m-r Pierre, je vous dois une fière chandelle de m'avoir sauvé... de cet enragé... J'en ai assez, voyez-vous, de balles dans le corps. En voilà une à Wagram et de deux à Smolensk, Et cette jambe, comme vous voyez, qui ne veut pas marcher. C'est à la grande bataille du 7 à la Moskowa que j’ai reçu ça. Sacré Dieu, c’était beau! Il fallait voir ça, c’était un déluge de feu. Vous nous avez taillé une rude besogne; vous pouvez vous en vanter, nom d’un petit bonhomme. Et, ma parole, malgré la toux, que j'y ai gagné, je serais prêt à recommencer. Je plains ceux qui n’ont pas vu ça.
— J’y ai été,
— Bah, vraiment! Eh bien, tant mieux, Vous êtes de fiers ennemis, tout de même. La grande redoute a été tenace, nom d’une pipe. Et vous nous l’avez fait crânement payer. J'y suis allé trois fois, tel que vous me voyez. Trois fois nous étions sur les canons et trois fois on nous a culbuté et comme des capucins de cartes. Oh! c’était beau, m-r Pierre. Vos grenadiers ont été superbes, tonnerre de Dieu. Je les ai vu six fois de suite serrer les rangs, et marcher comme à une revue. Les beaux hommes! Notre roi de Naples qui s’y connait a crié: bravo! — Ah, ah! soldat comme nous autres! Tant mieux, tant mieux, m-r Pierre. Terribles en bataille.. galants....avec les belles, voilà les Français, m-r Pierre, n'est ce pas?
(Yes, my dear Mr. Pierre, I owe you a proud candle to have saved me... of this rabid...I've had enough, you see, of bullets in the body. Here is one in Wagram and two in Smolensk, And this leg, as you can see, that does not want to walk. It was at the great battle of the 7th at Moskowa that I received this. Sacred God, it was beautiful! You had to see that, it was a deluge of fire. You got us a size of rude work; you can brag about it, name of a good little fellow. And, my word, despite the cough, that I won, I would be ready to start again. I pity those who haven't seen it.
- I was there,
- Bah, really! Well, so much the better, You are proud enemies, all the same. The great redoubt was tenacious, name of a pipe. And you made us brazenly pay. I went there three times, as you see me. Three times we were on the cannons and three times we were knocked down and like card capuchins. Oh! it was beautiful, Mr. Pierre. Your grenadiers trees were superb, thunder of God. I saw them six times in a row close ranks, and walk as if a review. Beautiful men! Our King of Naples who knows all about it shouted: bravo! - Ah, ah! a soldier like the rest of us! So much the better, so much the better, Mr. Pierre. Terrible in battle.. gallant....with the beauties, here are the French, Mr. Pierre, is not it?)
824 — A propos, dites donc, est-ce vrai que toutes les femmes ont quitté Moscou? Une drôle d’idée! Qu'avaient-elles à craindre?
— Est ce que les dames françaises ne quitteraient pas Paris si les Russes y entraient?
(- By the way, tell me, is it true that all the women have left Moscow? A funny idea! What did they have to fear?
- Would the French ladies not leave Paris if the Russians entered?)
825 Ah, ah, ah! Ah! elle est forte celle-là, Paris?... Mais Paris... Paris...Paris la capitale du monde... (Ah, ah, ah! Ah! how strong is that one, Paris?...But Paris...Paris...Paris the capital of the world...)
826 Eh bien, si vous ne m’aviez pas dit que vous êtes Russe, j’aurai parié que vous êtes Parisien. Vous avez ce je ne sais quoi, ce... (Well, if you didn't tell me you're Russian, I would have bet you are Parisian. You have this I don't know what, this...)
827 J’ai été à Paris, j’y ai passé des années,
Oh ça se voit bien. Paris!... Un homme qui ne connait pas Paris, est un sauvage. Un Parisien, ça se sent à deux lieux. Paris, c’est Talma, la Duschénois, Potier, la Sorbonne, les boulevards
(I was in Paris, I spent years there,
Oh that shows well. Paris!...A man who does not know Paris is a savage. A Parisian can be felt in two places. Paris is Talma, the Duschénois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards)
828 il n’y a qu’un Paris au monde. Vous avez été à Paris et vous êtes resté Russe. Eh bien, je ne vous en estime pas moins. (there is only one Paris in the world. You have been to Paris and you have remained Russian. Well, I do not esteem you any less.)
829 Pour en revenir à vos dames, on les dit bien belles. Quelle fichue idée d’aller s’enterrer dans les steppes, quand l’аrmée française est à Moscou. Quelle chance elles ont manqué celles-là. Vos moujiks c’est autre chose, mais vous autres gens civilisés vous devriez nous connaître mieux que ça. Nous avons pris Vienne, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Varsovie, toutes les capitales du monde... On nous craint, mais on nous aime. Nous sommes bons à connaître. Et puis l’Empereur, (Coming back to your ladies, they are said to be very beautiful. What a damn idea to go and bury themselves in the steppes, when the French Army is in Moscow. What a chance they missed. Your peasants are another thing, but you civilized people should know us better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw, all the capitals of the world... We are feared, but we are loved. We are good to know. And then the Emperor,)
830 L’Empereur, Est-ce que l’Empereur... (The Emperor, What is the Emperor...)
831 — L’Empereur? C’est la générosité, la clémence, la justice, l’ordre, le génie, voilà l’Empereur! C’est moi Ramball qui vous le dit. Tel que vous me voyez, j’étais son ennemi il y a encore huit ans. Mon père a été comte émigré... Mais il m’a vaincu, cet homme. Il m'a empoigné. Je n’ai pas pu résister au spectacle de grandeur et de gloire dont il couvrait la France. Quand j’ai compris ce qu’il voulait, quand j’ai vu qu’il nous faisait une litière de lauriers, voyez vous, je me suis dit: voilà un souverain, et je me suis donné à lui. Eh voilà! Oh, oui, mon cher, c’est le plus grand homme des siècles passés et à venir.
— Est-il à Moscou?
(- The emperor? This is generosity, clemency, justice, order, genius, there is the Emperor! This is I, Ramball, telling you. As you see me, I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant count ... But he defeated me, this man. He grabbed me. I could not resist the spectacle of grandeur and glory with which he was covering France. When I understood what he wanted, when I saw that he was giving us a litter of laurels, you see, I said to myself: here is a sovereign, and I gave myself to him. There you go! Oh, yes, my dear, he is the greatest man of centuries past and to come.
- Is he in Moscow?)
832 Non, il fera son entrée demain, (No, he will make his entrance tomorrow,)
833 Charmant, le colonel de ces Wurtembourgeois! C'est un Allemand; mais brave garçon, s’il en fut. Mais Allemand. (Charming, the colonel of these Wurtembourgeois! He's a German; but a brave boy, if there was one. But German.)
834 A propos, vous savez donc l’allemand, vous? (By the way, do you know German then, do you?)
835 Comment dites vous asile en allemand? (How do you say asylum in German?)
836 Asile en allemand — Unterkunft. (Asylum in German - Unterkunft.)
837 Comment dites-vous? (How do you say that?)
838 Les Allemands sont de fières bêtes. N’est ce pas, m-r Pierre? (The Germans are proud beasts. Is it not, Mr Pierre?)
839 Eh bien, encore une bouteille de ce Bordeau Moscovite, n’est ce pas? Morel, va nous chauffer encore une petite bouteille. Morel (Well, another bottle of that Bordeau Moscovite, no? Morel, go heat us another little bottle. Morel)
840 Eh bien, nous sommes tristes, (Well, we are sad,)
841 Vous aurai-je fait de la peine? Non, vrai, avez-vous quelque chose contre moi, Peut-être rapport à la situation? (Have I made you feel sorry? No, truly, you have something against me, Maybe related to the situation?)
842 Parole d’honneur, sans parler de ce que je vous dois, j’ai de l’amitié pour vous. Puis-je faire quelque chose pour vous? Disposez de moi. C’est à la vie et à la mort. C’est la main sur le coeur que je vous le dis, (Word of honor, not to mention what I owe you, I am fond of you. Can I do something for you? Dispose of me. It's life and death. This is my hand on my heart what I am telling you,)
843 Ah! dans ce cas je bois à notre amitié! (Ah! in this case I drink to our friendship!)
844 Oui, mon cher ami, voilà les caprices de la fortune, Qui m’aurait dit que je serai soldat et capitaine de dragons au service de Bonaparte, comme nous l’appellions jadis. Et cependant me voilà à Moscou avec lui. Il faut vous dire, mon cher, (Yes, my dear friend, these are the caprices of fortune, Who would have told me that I would be a soldier and captain of the dragoons in the service of Bonaparte, as we called it once. And yet here I am in Moscow with him. I must tell you, my dear,)
845 que notre nom est l’un des plus anciens de la France. (that our name is one of the oldest in France.)
846 "Ma pauvre mère" ("My poor mother")
847 Mais tout ça ce n’est que la mise en scène de la vie, le fond c’est l’amour. L’amour! N’est ce pas, m-r Pierre? — Encore un verre. (But all this is just the staging of life, the bottom of this is love. Love! Is it not, Mr. Pierre? - Another glass.)
848 Oh! les femmes, les femmes! (Oh! women, women!)
849 l’amour, (love,)
850 l’amour des charretiers, another l’amour des nigauds (the love of carters, another the love of simpletons)
851 souvenirs d’Allemagne, les maris mangent de la choux croute and where les jeunes filles sont trop blondes. (memories of Germany, the husbands eat cabbage crust and where the young girls are too blond.)
852 Parisienne de coeur (Parisian at heart)
853 je vous ai sauvé la vie, et je sauve votre honneur! (I have saved your life, and I save your honor!)
854 Tiens! (Yours!)
855 L’amour platonique, les nuages... (Platonic love, clouds...)
Mentioned: Sept, 7, on the morrow, eight years
Locations: see previous chapter
Mentioned: France (and French (Francais in the French)), Russian (russe in the French), Wagram, Smolensk, Moscow (Moskowa and Moscou in the French. Also Moscovite.), Naples, Paris (also Parisien and Parisienne), Vienna (Vienne in the French), Berlin, Madrid, Rome, Warsaw (Varsovie in the French), German (Allemagne in the French), Poland (and Pole and Polish), Sukharev Tower, Petrovka
Pevear and Volokhonsky Notes: The Frenchman wins Pierre over with his "lively imperviousness". While the two eat, the Frenchman talks up the Russian military, thinking Pierre is an officer. There is the important line where the Frenchman complains about the women leaving to which Pierre responds that the women of Paris would have left if the Russians invaded (which, historically, does not turn out to be true). There is more language barrier humor when Wurttemberg hussars try to speak to the Frenchman but can only speak German. The officer even gives the great line: "He's a German, but a good fellow if there ever was one. But German."
Pierre then feels guilty for drinking wine and talking to the man, distracting him what he had meant to do, and feels that he will not be able to kill Napoleon. Meanwhile the Frenchman talks about his adventures in love, which Tolstoy then uses to talk about the way the French view love, consisting "mainly in unnatural relations with women and in the combinations of abnormalities".
All these stories make Pierre contrast his love for his wife with his love for Natasha. Pierre then tells his story to the Frenchman and the first fires of Moscow start to burn. As many Pierre chapters seem to do, the chapter ends with Pierre lying down and going to sleep.
Characters (characters who do not appear, but are mentioned are placed in italics. First appearances are in Bold. First mentions are underlined. Final appearance denoted by *):
Captaine Ramball (also "French officer")
Pierre (also used with "monsieur" at the front of it. Also "Piotr Kiriluitch".)
Makar ("idiot")
Morel (the servant.)
Murat ("King of Naples")
Napoleon Bonaparte (also "emperor" or "L'empereur" and "evil-doer".)
Ellen ("wife")
Natasha
Gerasim (also the cook and two Frenchmen.)
Abridged Versions: End of chapter 19 in Bell.
Gibian: end of Chapter 14.
Fuller: Entire chapter is cut.
Komroff: Chapter basically preserved. Followed by a line break.
Kropotkin: Most of the conversation, as well as the Wurrtemberg prince, is cut, picking up with Ramball's assertion of his family name, as well as his amorous adventures. Rest of chapter seems preserved. End of Chapter 12.
Simmons: the chapter picks up where Pierre begins to think of Natasha. The section with the servants talking out in the yard is removed. end of Chapter 14.
Additional Notes: Garnett: "This inventory of Parisian charms includes three stage celebrities (Talma, the tragedian; Duschenois, the actress; Potier, the comedian), the University of Paris, and the city's handsome boulevards."
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