Briggs: He defends an Armenian woman, and is then arrested as an arsonist.
Translation:
XXXIV.
When Pierre, running around courtyards and lanes, got out backwards with his burden to the garden of the Georgian, to the corner of Povarskaya (Chef), he in the first moment did not find out the place with which he went for the kid: it was so cluttered with people and pulled out from houses belongings. Besides Russian families with their goods, escaping here from the fire, here again were a few French soldiers in institutional robes. Pierre did not turn to them attention. He hurried to find the family of the official, with that so to give the daughter to the mother and go again to save someone else. To Pierre it seemed that he still had something more and soon needed to do it. Warmed up from the heat and running around, Pierre more strongly in this moment felt that feeling of youth, revitalization and determination, which overcame him, at that time as he ran to save the child. The girl fell silent now, and, holding her little hands behind the caftan of Pierre, sitting on his hand and, as a wild beast, looked around herself. Pierre occasionally glanced at her and a little smiled. To him it seemed that he saw something touchingly innocent in this scared and painful face.
In the same location the official, or his wife now was not there. Pierre with fast steps went between people, looking around different faces falling on him. Unwittingly he saw a Georgian or Armenian family, held from a beautiful woman, with an oriential type of face, a very old man, dressed in a new, covered with sheepskin coat and new boots, from the old woman such the same type as the young woman. This very young woman seemed to Pierre a perfect eastern beauty, with her sharp arched outlined black eyebrows and long unusually tenderly rosy and beautiful face without any expression. Among the scattered belongings in the crowd in the square, she, in his rich satin cloak and bright purple shawl, covering her head, reminded him of a tender hothouse plant, thrown away in the snow. She sat on the bundle some behind the old women and her still large, black, oblong, with long eyelashes, eyes watched on the land. Apparently she knew her beauty and was afraid for it. This face struck Pierre, and he, in his haste, passing along the fence, a few times turned back to her. Reaching to the fence and all the same not finding those whom he needed, Pierre stopped, looking back.
The figure of Pierre with the kid in his hands was more wonderful than before, and about him gathered a few Russian persons, men and women.
— Lost someone, sweet person? — Whether you are from the nobles, what? Whose child is that? — was asked at him.
Pierre responded that the child belonged to a woman in a black cloak, who sat with her children in this location and asked whether they knew who she was and where she went.
— Because of this Anferovs must be, — said the old deacon, turning to a pockmarked woman. — Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, — he added in habitual bass.
— Where are the Anferovs? — said the woman. — Anferovs from the morning left. But this is Marya Nikolaevna, or the Ivanovs.
— He speaks of a woman, but Marya Nikolaevna is a lady, — said a yard person.
— Yes you know her, long teeth, thin, — spoke Pierre.
— And it is Marya Nikolaevna. They went in the garden, as here those wolves swooped down, — said the woman, pointing at a French soldier.
— Oh, Lord have mercy, — added again the deacon.
— You go through here, they are there. She is. All were killed, she cried, — said again the woman. — She is. Here, here is that.
But Pierre did not listen to the women. He now for a few seconds, not lowering his eyes, watched on that what was done at several steps from him. He watched the Armenian family and the two French soldiers approaching to the Armenians. One of these soldiers, a little, fidgety little man, was dressed in a blue overcoat, belted by a rope. On his head was a cap and his legs were barefoot. The other, which especially struck Pierre, was a long stooped, blond, lean person with slow movements and an idiotic expression on his face. This one was dressed in a frieze hood, in blue pants and large, torn boots. The little Frenchman, without the boots, in blue greatcoats, coming up to the Armenians, immediately again, said something, took for the legs of the old man, and the old man immediately again, hastily began to take off his boots. The other in the hood stopped against the beautiful Armenian woman and silently still, held his hands in his pockets, watching her.
— Take, take the child, — spoke Pierre, giving the girl and imperatively and hastily turning to the women. — You give it back, give it back! — he almost shouted at the granny, planting the screaming girl on the land, and again turned back to the French and at the Armenian family. The old man now sat barefoot. The little Frenchman stripped off from him the last boot and patted the boots one about the other. The old man, sobbing, spoke something, but Pierre only caught seeing this; all his attention was drawn to the Frenchman in the hood, which in this time, slowly swaying, moved to the young woman and, taking out his hand from his pockets, took for her neck.
The beautiful Armenian continued to sit in this same motionless position with omitted, long eyelashes and as if not seeing and not feeling what was done with her by the soldier.
While Pierre ran those few steps which separated him from the French, the long marauder in the hood now tore up from the neck of the Armenian woman a necklace, which was on her, and the young woman, clutching her hands for her neck, shouted in a piercing voice.
—Leave this woman!865 — in a mad voice wheezed Pierre grabbing the long stooped soldier behind the shoulders and discarding him. The soldier fell, rose and ran away. Yet his fellow, throwing the boots, took out a knife and menacingly moved forward to Pierre.
— Well, well! Not a folly!866 — he shouted.
Pierre was in this delighted madness, in which he remembered nothing, and in which his forces were tenfold. He rushed at the barefoot Frenchman and, before having time to take out his knife, now knocked him down from his feet and beat him by his fists. Was heard an approving shout from the surrounding crowd and in that same time from behind the corner appeared a horse from the departing French lancers. The lancers, trotting, pulled up to Pierre and the Frenchmen and surrounded them. Pierre remembered nothing from what was farther. He remembered that he beat someone, he was beat, and that under the end he felt that his hands were tied, that the crowd of the French soldiers stood around him and searched his dress.
— Lieutenant, on him is a dagger,867 — were the first words which got Pierre.
— Ah, weapons!868 — said the officer and turning to the barefoot soldier, which was taken with Pierre.
— Good, good, in court tell everyone,869 — said the officer, and following behind that he turned to Pierre: — Know French?870
Pierre looked around himself with pouring blood eyes and did not respond. Probably his face seemed very fearful, because of how the officer whisperingly said something, and four more lancers separated from commanders and became by both sides of Pierre.
— Know French?871 — repeated the question of the officer, holding away from him. — Call the translator.872 — from behind the ranks left a little man in civilian Russian dress. Pierre by robe talked to him immediately again found in him a Frenchman from one of Moscow stores.
— He does not look like a commoner,873 — said the translator, looking around Pierre.
—Oh, oh! He very much looks like an arsonist. — said the officer. — Ask him who he is,874 — he added.
— Who are you? — asked the translator. — You must respond to superiors, — he said.
— I will not say to you who I am. I am your captive. Take me away,875 — suddenly in French said Pierre.
— Ah! Ah! —spoke the officer frowning. —Well, march!876
About the lancers gathered a crowd. Nearer than all to Pierre stood the pockmarked woman with the girl; when the detour set off, she moved forward.
— Where again this leads you, my darling? — she said. — That girl, that girl where do I put it, if she is not theirs! — said the woman.
— What does she need?877 — asked the officer.
Pierre was as drunk. His enthusiastic state still intensified at seeing the girl which he saved.
— What does she need?— he spoke. — She bears my daughter which I saved from the fire.— he spoke. — Goodbye!878 — and he, himself not knowing, as bursting out in him this aimless lie, in a decisive, solemn step went between the French.
The departure of the French was one of those that were sent by the order of Duronel by a different street of Moscow for the suppression of looting and in particular for the capture of the arsonists. That, by the general, on that day manifested the opinion in the French higher ranks were reasons for the fire. Travelling a few streets, the departure took five more suspicious Russian persons, one shopkeeper, two seminarians, a peasant and a courtyard human and several marauders. Yet of all suspicious people, more suspicious than all seemed Pierre. When they all were brought to the accommodations at a big house at Zubovsky shaft, in which was instituted a guardhouse, that Pierre under strict guard was placed separately.
—————
865 Laissez cette femme! (Leave this woman!)
866 Voyons, pas de bêtises! (Let's see, no nonsense!)
867 Il a un poignard, lieutenant, (He has a dagger, lieutenant,)
868 Ah, une arme! (Ah, an arm!)
869 C’est bon, vous direz tout cela au conseil de guerre, (It's good, you'll say all this in the war council,)
870 Parlez-vous français, vous? (Do you speak French, do you?)
871 Parlez-vous français? (Do you speak French?)
872 Faites venir l'interprête. (Bring the interpreter.)
873 Il n’a pas l’air d’un homme du peuple, (He does not look like a man of the people,)
874 Oh, oh! ça m’a bien l’air d’un des incendiaires, Demandez lui ce qu’il est? (Oh, oh! It looks like an incendiary, ask him what he is?)
875 Je ne vous dirai pas qui je suis. Je suis votre prisonnier. Emmenez-moi, (I will not say who I am. I am your prisoner. Take me,)
876 Ah! Ah! Marchons! (Ah! Ah! Let's walk!)
877 Qu’est ce qu’elle veut, cette femme? (What does she want, this woman?)
878 Ce qu’elle dit? Elle m’apporte ma fille que je viens de sauver des flammes, Adieu! (What does she say? She brings me my daughter that I have just saved flames, goodbye!)
Locations: the corner of Povarskaya Street, a large house at the Zubov rampart (rampart is capitalized in Maude and Mandelker. Zubovsky Rampart in Dunnigan and Garnett (not capitalized in latter). house used as a guard-house in Bell. a great mansion on the Zubovsky Val in Dole.)
Mentioned: French, Russian, Georgian, Armenian, Eastern, Moscow
Pevear and Volokhonsky Notes: The child Pierre is carrying is referred to as "his burden" and is described as "a wild animal" but "angelic". Around Pierre and his happiness in doing what he believes is right are many distractions in a way that the narrative seems to get distracted, spending time describing a woman with "the perfection of Oriental beauty." Pierre runs across people who know who the child belongs to, but he then gets distracted by French soldiers robbing an Armenian couple. He goes over the girl and tries to intervene in this episode, getting so angry he attacks the Frenchman and gets arrested, especially after the French officers see the dagger and is considered the most suspicious prisoner of all the Russians arrested.
End of Volume 3.
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
Prince Gruzinsky (again, his gardens)
Katitchka (just "child" and "little girl".)
Marya Nikolayevna (also "mother" and "wife". Her husband referrenced as "chinovnik".)
Durosnel
Abridged Versions: End of Chapter 21 in Bell.
End of Volume 3 in Dole.
End of Part the Eleventh in Wiener and the end of Volume 7 of Wiener's translation of the complete works of Leo Tolstoy.
End of Book 3 in Dunnigan, Mandelker, and Edmonds.
End of Book Eleven in Maude.
End of Part Eleven in Garnett.
End of Volume Three in Briggs.
Gibian: End of Book Eleven.
Fuller: Chapter is preserved. End of Part Eight.
Komroff: The detail about the child's changed mood is not here. The description of the two French soldiers is almost entirely removed. The chapter and Book Eleven ends when the officer says "march then!" cutting out Pierre's last thoughts and the context of him being considered the most dangerous prisoner.
Kropotkin: Chapter is preserved. End of Part Eleventh.
Bromfield: The rest of Chapter 15 (see chapter 245) plays out as follows: Pierre, wearing the peasant's coat but good boots, crosses into French territory with a happy feeling, one not caused by saving a child. He runs into two people who see that he is a gentleman due to his nice boots. He tries to hide and Napoleon comes across the bridge without Pierre getting to him. Pierre sees chaos on the bridge and Ermolov making it clear that he would shoot to clear the bridge. Rostopchin tries to talk to Kutuzov but is brushed off in a span of a couple of sentences, immediately cutting to outside of Moscow in a dizzying move from event to event. We are now with the Rostovs and Prince Andrei/Timokhin. Natasha hears the doctor claiming someone is about to die and goes to the cart and is turned away (in this version Natasha already knows who is in the cart). Natasha approaches Andrei's cart, asks for forgiveness and gets it in a conversation that is much shorter. There is a bit where Timokhin keeps trying to cover himself unsuccessfully when Natasha comes.
Simmons: the opening of the chapter that describes the child is removed. End of Book Eleven.
Additional Notes:
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