Briggs: Pierre sets out. He saves a child from the fire.
Maude (chapters 33-34): Pierre sets out to meet Napoleon. He saves a child, defends an Armenian girl from a French soldier, and is arrested as an incendiary
Pevear and Volokhonsky (chapters 33-34): Pierre in burning Moscow. He sets out to find Napoleon. Finds a lost little girl. Saves a young Armenian woman from thieves. The French arrest him.
Translation:
XXXIII.
Pierre awoke on the 3rd of September late. His head was ill, the dress, in which he slept, not undressing, burdened his body, and in his soul was a vague consciousness of something shameful, completed on the eve; this shameful was yesterday’s conversation with Captain Rambal.
His watch showed 11, but in the courtyard it seemed especially cloudy. Pierre got up, rubbed his eyes and, seeing the pistol with the cut gunstock, which Gerasim placed again on the writing table, Pierre remembered that where he was found out and what he was to do on the current day.
— Whether it is already not late? — thought Pierre. — No, probably he will make his entry in Moscow not earlier than 12. — Pierre did not allow himself to ponder about what he was to do, but hurried to soon act.
Having set on himself his dress, Pierre took in his hand the pistol and tidied up now to go. Yet here he for the first time had come to the idea about how, not in the hand by the street to carry this weapon. Even surrounded under a caftan it was difficult to put away a big pistol. Behind the belt, or under shoulder it could not be to place it imperceptibly. Besides, this pistol was discharged, but Pierre did not have time to charge it. "All care the dagger,” Pierre said to himself, although he did not have time, discussing his entrusted intentions, decided with himself that the main error of the student in the year 1809 consisted in that he wanted to kill Napoleon with a dagger. Yet as if the main objective of Pierre consisted not so to perform the conceived business, but so that to show mostly himself that he did not renounce from his intentions and did all for its execution, Pierre hastily took the bought to him at Suharev towers together with the pistol dull jagged dagger in a green scabbard and put away it under his vest.
Belting his caftan and moving his hat, Pierre, trying to not make noise and not to meet the captain, passed by the corridor and got out to the street.
That fire, in which he so indifferently watched on the eve night, behind the night much increased. Moscow burned now with different parties. Burned in one and that same time Karetny row, Zamoskvoretsky, Gostiny yard, Povarskaya (Chef), the barges on the Moscow river and the wood market at the Dorogomilovsky bridge.
The way of Pierre lied across the lanes to Povarskaya and from there to Arbat, to Nikolay the Yavltnno (Apparent), at which he in his imagination for a long time defined the place in which must be committed his business. At the greater parts of the houses were locked up gates and shuttered. The streets and lanes were deserted. In the air it smelled of burning and smoke. Occasionally met Russians with anxiously timid faces and French with a non-urban camp look, marching by the middle of the street. And those and others with surprise looked at Pierre. Besides his large stature and thickness, besides the strange gloomily focused and suffering expressions of his face and throughout his figure, the Russian looked closely to Pierre, because of how he did not understand to which estate could belong this person. The French again with surprise escorted his eyes in particular because of how Pierre, nasty to all other Russians, scared and curiously watched the French, not turning to them any attention. At one gate at the home three Frenchman, interpreting something not understood by the Russian people, stopped Pierre, asking whether he knows French.
Pierre negatively shook his head and went farther. In the other alley shouted the clock, standing on a green box and Pierre only at the repeated terrible shout and sound of a gun, taken by the sentry in his hand, got that he should walk around another part of the street. He heard nothing and did not look around himself. He, as something scary and alien to him, with haste and horror carried in himself his intention, fearing — taught by the experience of the past night — to somehow lose it. Yet Pierre was not destined to convey intact his mood to this place where he directed. Besides this, if he would have had nothing held in his way, his intention could not be executed now because of how Napoleon more than 4 hours to that backwards drove through from Dorogomilovsky suburb across the Arbat to the Kremlin and now, in a very gloomy location of spirit, sat on the royal office of the Kremlin palace and gave back detailed thorough orders about measures which were to be accepted immediately for extinguishing the fire, warnings of looting and reassurance of the inhabitants. But Pierre did not know this; he, all engrossed in the lying ahead, was tormented, as tormented people, stubbornly undertaking impossible business — not by difficulty, but by the unusual affairs with his nature; he was tormented by this fear that he was weak in a decisive moment and, owing to this, suffer in respect to himself.
Although he saw nothing and did not hear around himself, but by instinct thought the road and not mistaking by the lanes, took him out to Povarskaya.
By at least this as Pierre was approaching to Povarskaya (Chef), the smoke became stronger and stronger, becoming even heat from the fire. Occasionally soared fiery tongues from behind the rooftops of houses. More people met in the street, And these people were worrying. Yet Pierre, although feeling that something so extraordinary was going on around him, did not give back to himself a report about that he was approaching to the fire. Passing by the path, marching by the big undeveloped place, adjoining one part to Povarskaya (Chef), another to the gardens of the home of a Georgian prince, Pierre suddenly heard beside himself the desperate cry of a woman. He stopped, as would be awakening from sleep, and raised his head.
On the side from the paths, on the dried dusty grass, were dumped a bunch of homeworkers’ belongings: feather beds, samovars, images and chests. On the land beside the chests sat a not young, thin woman, with long stuck out top teeth, dressed in a black coat and cap. This woman, swinging and saying something, strainingly cried. Two girls, from 10 to 12 years-old, clothed in a dirty short dress and clogs, with an expression of perplexity on pale, scared faces, looked at their mother. The younger boy was seven years-old, in a cloth coat and in a strange huge cap, and cried in the hands of an old woman nanny. The barefoot, dirty girl sat on the chest and, loosening her whitish braid, ripped off scorched hair, sniffing it. The husband, a not tall, stooped little man in a uniform with rotating sideburns and smooth temples, prominent from below an all put on cap, with a motionless face and bifurcated chest, setting one on another, drug out from below them some robes.
The woman almost threw to the legs of Pierre, when she saw him.
— Father dear, Christians Orthodox, save, help, darling!... Someone help, — she pronounced through the sobbing. — Girl!... Daughter!... My smaller daughter left!... Burned! Oh, oh, oh! For this I am to you, alas... Oh, oh, oh!
— Fully, Marya Nikolaevna, — in a quiet voice, turned the husband to wife obviously for only so to justify before the outsider human. — It must be that the little sister carried away, but that somewhere else be! — he added.
— Sedentary, the villain! — viciously screamed the woman, suddenly ceasing to cry. — No heart is in you, his child he does not pity, another would from the fire take out. But this is sedentary, not a person, not a father. You are a noble person, — pattering in sobs, turned the woman to Pierre. — Burned nearby, — we threw. The girl screamed: burning! We threw to collect. In this we were, in this popped out... here seized some... God’s blessing the dowry bed, but that all disappeared. Grab the children, Katechka is not. Oh, oh, oh! Oh Lord!... — and again she sobbed. — My sweet child, burned! Burned!
— And where again, where again was she left? — said Pierre. By the expression of his revived face, the woman understood that this person could help her.
— Father! Father! — she screamed, grabbing behind his legs. — Benefactor, though my heart is calm... Aniska, go, vile, conduct, — she shouted at the girl, angrily revealing her mouth and by this movement still more showing his long teeth.
— Conduct, conduct, I.., I...I will do it, — in an out of breath voice, hastily said Pierre.
The dirty girl exited from behind the chest, cleaned up her braid, sighed and went by dull barefoot feet forward by the path. Pierre as would suddenly woke up to life after heavily fainting. He higher raised his head, his eyes lit up in a shine of life, and he with fast steps went behind the wench, overtook her and got out to Povarskaya. All the street was covered in a cloud of black smoke. The tongues of the flames somewhere escaped from these clouds. A large crowd of people crowded before the fire. In the middle of the street stood a French general speaking something surrounding him. Pierre, accompanying the wench, came up to that place, where stood the general; but the French soldiers stopped him.
— Here do not pass,856 — shouted his voice.
— Here, uncle, — shouted the girl: — We will go to the lane across Nikulin.
Pierre turned backwards and went, occasionally bouncing, so that to keep up behind her. The girl ran across the street, turning left at the lane and, having passed three homes, wrapped to the right at the gate.
— Here, here now, — said the girl and, after running to the yard, she opened the gate at the plank of the fence and, stopping, pointed out to Pierre the small wooden wing, burning light and hot. One of its sides collapsed, another burned, and the flame brightly knocked out from under the holes of the windows and from under the roofs.
When Pierre entered to the gate, he was doused in heat, and he unwittingly stopped.
— Which, which one is your house? — he asked.
— Oh-oh-oh! — howled the girl, pointing at the wing. — the very one, itself was our apartment. It burned our treasure, Katechka, my loveable young lady, oh-oh! — howled Aniska in seeing the fire, feeling it miserable to express her feeling.
Pierre poked himself to the outhouse, but the heat was so strong that he unwittingly described the arc around the wing and found himself beside much of the home, which still burned only with one part with the roofs and about which teemed a crowd of French. Pierre first did not get that the French did this, dragging something; but, seeing before himself a Frenchman, which beat with his blunt axe a peasant, taking away his fox fur coat, Pierre got vaguely that here was robbery, but he once was stopped in this thought.
The sound of the cod and rumble of collapsed walls and ceilings, the whistle and hiss of flame and the lively screams of the people, the hesitating view, that bulging thick blackness, that soaring light clouds of smoke with sequins of sparks and where continuous, sheaves, red, somewhere flakes of gold, carrying over by the walls of the flames, the sensation of heat and smoke and fast movements performed in Pierre the ordinary exciting action of the fire. This action was in particular strong in Pierre because of how Pierre suddenly, in seeing this fire, felt himself released from his burdened thoughts. He felt himself young, fun, dexterous and decisive. He ran by the wing with parts of the home and wanted to now run in that part of him, which still stood, when above by his head was heard the shout of several voices and following then the crackle and ringing of something heavy fallen beside him.
Pierre turned back and saw in the windows of the home of the French, throwing out a box of chest of drawers, filled with some metal things. Other French soldiers, standing downstairs, came up to the box.
— This is what we need more of,857 — shouted one of the French to Pierre.
— A child in this house. Whether you have not seen them?858 — said Pierre.
— This some more is interpreted. Damn get out,859 — was heard a voice, and one of the soldiers, apparently fearing so that Pierre had thought up to take away their silver and bronze which were in the box, menacingly moving forward to it.
— A child?— shouted from above the French, — I heard some squeaking in the garden. Maybe, this is his child. What but we need humanity. We are all people... — Where is it? Where is it?860 — asked Pierre. — Here! Here! 861 — shouted to him the Frenchman from the window, showing the garden, formerly behind the house. — Wait a moment I now will descend.862 — and really, in a moment the Frenchman, a black-eyed little one with some blot on his cheek, in only a shirt, jumped out from the window of the bottom floor and, slamming Pierre by the shoulder, running with him in the garden. — Hey you are livelier,— he shouted to his friends, — the baking begins.863
Running behind the house on the strewn with sand road, the Frenchman yanked behind the arm of Pierre and pointed out to him a circle. Under a bench lied a three year-old girl in a pink dress.
— That is your child. And, a girl, by better,— said the Frenchman. — Goodbye, fat man. What but we need humanity. We are all people.864 — and the Frenchman with the blot on his cheek ran backwards to his friends.
Pierre, gasping for breath from joy, ran up to the girl and wanted to take it in hand. Yet seeing another human, scrofulous and painful, similar to her mother, unpleasant in view, the girl screamed and threw to run. Pierre however grabbed her and raised her in hand; she screeched in a frantically and vicious voice and their own small hands began to rip off from the hand of Pierre and the snotty mouth bit them. Pierre was overcome by a sense of horror and disgust like that which he felt at the touch to some little animal. Yet he made an effort above himself, so that to not throw the child and ran with him backwards to the big home. Yet to take now backwards could not be by that same road: the girl Aniska now was not, and Pierre with a feeling of pity and disgust, clutching to himself as he could the tender, suffering, sobbing and wet girl, ran across the garden to search for another exit.
856 On ne passe pas, (Do not pass,)
857 Eh bien, qu’est ce qu’il veut celui-là, (Well, what is he wanting this one,)
858 Un enfant dans cette maison. N’avez vous pas vu un enfant? (A child in this house. Did you not see a child?)
859 Tiens, qu’est ce qu’il chante celui-là? Va te promener, (Hold, what is he singing this one? Go for a walk,)
860 Un enfant? j’ai entendu piailler quelque chose au jardin. Peut-être c’est son moutard au bonhomme. Faut être humain, voyez vous... — Où est-il? Où est-il? (I heard something squeaking in the garden. Maybe it's your gorgeous goddaughter. Have to be human, you see...- Where is it? Where is it?)
861 Par ici! par ici! (Here! Here!)
862 Attendez, je vais descendre. (Wait, I will go down.)
863 Dépêchez vous, vous autres, commence à faire chaud. (Hurry up, you are starting to get hot.)
864 Voilà votre moutard. Ah, une petite, tant mieux, A revoir, mon gros. Faut être humain. Nous sommes tous mortels, voyez-vous, (That's your goddaughter. Ah, a little one, so much the better, goodbye, my big one. Must be human. We are all mortal, you see,)
Mentioned: the day before, noon, 1809
Locations: Povarskaya Street, Arbat, Church of St Nicholas the Manifested, Nikulin yard (Nikulin's in Maude, Briggs, and Pevear and Volokhonsky. Nikoliny in Garnett. Nikulini's in Dole. Just side-alley in Bell.)
Mentioned: Sukharev Tower, Carriage Row, Transmoskva (Bazaar in Briggs, Mandelker, Dunnigan, and Maude. Zamoskvorechye in Pevear and Volokhonsky.), Merchant Row, Moskva River, the wood market (timber yards in Briggs, Mandelker, and Maude. firewood market in Pevear and Volokhonsky. lumberyards in Dunnigan.) at the Dorogomilov Bridge (and Suburb), Russians, French, Kremlin palace
Pevear and Volokhonsky Notes: We switch to Pierre, who is still feeling shame and still wanting to kill Napoleon. Some time is spent discussing whether Pierre should carry a pistol or a dagger. Meanwhile, the fires are growing and Tolstoy again spends time discussing the different neighborhoods of the city.
"But Pierre was not destined to bring his state of mind intact to the place he was heading for." Also, Napoleon is not there anyway and Pierre runs across a screaming woman that is calling for her daughter who is trapped in the fire. She argues with her husband, who does not believe she is in the building. Pierre is shown around to the side of the building where he sees it burning and the French looting. Putting himself in this situation frees his mind and makes him cheerful. Pierre, after talking to some Frenchmen, finds the little girl, but cannot find the maid that the girl belonged to.
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 *):
Pierre (also "good father" and "uncle".)
Captain Ramball
Gerasim
Napoleon
Prince Gruzinsky (as in Dole, Mandelker, and Garnett. his mansion is mentioned. "Gruzinski" in Wiener. The name is dropped in Bell.)
Marya Nikolayevna (Also "the woman". Has two little girls and a little boy, who has an old nurse, with her. Also the husband of the family.)
Katitchka (as in Dole, Garnett, and Wiener. also "little daughter" and "youngest daughter". "Katie" in Maude. "Katya" in Edmonds. "Katia" in Bell. "Katechka" in Briggs. "Katyechka" in Mandelker.)
Aniska (a dirty, bare-legged servant girl.)
(the student who attempted to kill Napoleon in 1809 is referenced again. Also various Russians and Frenchmen that Pierre runs into.)
Gibian: Chapter 16: line break instead of chapter break at the end.
Fuller: Chapter is preserved and followed by a line break.
Komroff: The episode plays out more quickly as some details are removed, especially Pierre's run-in with the Frenchmen right before he finds the girl, but the core of the chapter is preserved and followed by a line break.
Kropotkin: Chapter 15: Other than a few descriptive details, the chapter is preserved.
Simmons: Chapter 16: the opening of the chapter is somewhat shortened, with the discussion of the 1809 student and the gun removed, after Pierre hears the woman crying, text is replaced with "Pierre, relieved by a call to action, heeds the plea of the anguished wife of a civil servant to rescue her little daughter from their burning house. He discovers the child unharmed and is taking the girl to her parents when he is distracted by another call for help." There is no chapter break.
Additional Notes:
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