“WELL, now, that's all,” said Kutuzov, as he signed the last paper, and rising clumsily, and straightening his fat, white neck, he went to the door with a more cheerful countenance.
The priest's wife, with the colour rushing to her face, snatched up the dish, and though she had been so long preparing, she did not succeed in presenting it at the right moment. With a low bow she offered it to Kutuzov. Kutuzov screwed up his eyes. He smiled, chucked her under the chin, and said:
“And what a pretty face! Thank you, my dear!”
He took some gold coins out of his trouser pocket, and put them on the dish. “Well, and how are we getting on?” he said, going towards the room that had been assigned him. The priest's wife, with smiling dimples on her rosy face, followed to show him the room. The adjutant came out to Prince Andrey in the porch, and invited him to lunch. Half an hour later Kutuzov sent for Prince Andrey. He was reclining in a low chair, still in the same unbuttoned military coat. He had a French novel in his hand, and at Prince Andrey's entrance laid a paper-knife in it and put it aside. It was Les Chevaliers du Cygne, a work by Madame de Genlis, as Prince Andrey saw by the cover.
“Well, sit down; sit down here. Let us have a little talk,” said Kutuzov. “It's sad; very sad. But remember, my dear, think of me as a father, another father, to you …!”
Prince Andrey told Kutuzov all he knew about his father's end, and what he had seen at Bleak Hills.
“To think what we have been brought to!” Kutuzov cried suddenly, in a voice full of feeling, Prince Andrey's story evidently bringing vividly before him the position of Russia.
“Wait a bit; wait a bit!” he added, with a vindictive look in his face, and apparently unwilling to continue a conversation that stirred him too deeply, he said:
“I sent for you to keep you with me.”
“I thank your highness!” answered Prince Andrey, “but I am afraid I am no more good for staff work,” he said, with a smile, which Kutuzov noticed. He looked at him inquiringly. “And the great thing is,” added Prince Andrey, “I am used to my regiment. I like the officers; and I think the men have come to like me. I should be sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honour of being in attendance on you, believe me …”
Kutuzov's podgy face beamed with a shrewd, good-natured, and yet subtly ironical expression. He cut Bolkonsky short.
“I'm sure you would have been of use to me. But you're right; you're right. It's not here that we want men. There are always a multitude of counsellors; but men are scarce. The regiments wouldn't be what they are if all the would-be counsellors would serve in them like you. I remember you at Austerlitz. I remember, I remember you with the flag!” said Kutuzov, and a flush of pleasure came into Prince Andrey's face at this reminiscence. Kutuzov held out his hand to him, offering him his cheek to kiss, and again Prince Andrey saw tears in the old man's eye. Though Prince Andrey knew Kutuzov's tears were apt to come easily, and that he was particularly affectionate and tender with him from the desire to show sympathy with his loss, yet he felt this reminder of Austerlitz agreeable and flattering.
“Go your own way, and God bless you in it. … I know your path is the path of honour!” He paused. “I missed you at Bucharest. I wanted some one to send …” And changing the subject, Kutuzov began talking of the Turkish war, and of the peace that had been concluded. “Yes, I have been roundly abused,” he said, “both for the war and the peace … but it all happened in the nick of time.” “ ‘Everything comes in time for him who knows how to wait,' ” he said, quoting the French proverb. “And there were as many counsellors there as here, …” he went on, returning to the superfluity of advisers, a subject which evidently occupied his mind. “Ugh, counsellors and counsellors!” he said. “If we had listened to all of them, we should be in Turkey now. We should not have made peace, and the war would never have been over. Always in haste, and more haste, worse speed. Kamensky would have come to grief there, if he hadn't died. He went storming fortresses with thirty thousand men. It's easy enough to take fortresses, but it's hard to finish off a campaign successfully. Storms and attacks are not what's wanted, but time and patience. Kamensky sent his soldiers to attack Rustchuk, but I trusted to them alone—time and patience—and I took more fortresses than Kamensky, and made the Turks eat horseflesh!” He shook his head. “And the French shall, too. Take my word for it,” cried Kutuzov, growing warmer and slapping himself on the chest, “I'll make them eat horseflesh!” And again his eye was dim with tears.
“We shall have to give battle, though, shan't we?” said Prince Andrey.
“We must, if every one wants to; there is no help for it.… But, mark my words, my dear boy! The strongest of all warriors are these two—time and patience. They do it all, and our wise counsellors n'entendent pas de cette oreille, voilà le mal. Some say ay, and some say no. What's one to do?” he asked, evidently expecting a reply. “Come, what would you have me do?” he repeated, and his eyes twinkled with a profound, shrewd expression. “I'll tell you what to do,” he said, since Prince Andrey still did not answer. “I'll tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon cher”—he paused—“abstiens-toi.” He articulated deliberately the French saying.
“Well, good-bye, my dear. Remember, with all my heart, I feel for your sorrow, and that for you I'm not his highness, nor prince, nor commander-in-chief, but simply a father to you. If you want anything, come straight to me. Good-bye, my dear boy!” Again he embraced and kissed him.
And before Prince Andrey had closed the door, Kutuzov settled himself comfortably with a sigh, and renewed the unfinished novel of Madame Genlis, Les Chevaliers du Cygne.
How, and why it was, Prince Andrey could not explain, but after this interview with Kutuzov, he went back to his regiment feeling reassured as to the future course of the war, and as to the man to whom its guidance was intrusted. The more clearly he perceived the absence of everything personal in the old leader, who seemed to have nothing left of his own but habits of passions, and instead of an intellect grasping events and making plans, had only the capacity for the calm contemplation of the course of events, the more confident he felt that all would be as it should be. “He will put in nothing of himself. He will contrive nothing, will undertake nothing,” thought Prince Andrey; “but he will hear everything, will think of everything, will put everything in its place, will not hinder anything that could be of use, and will not allow anything that could do harm. He knows that there is something stronger and more important than his will—that is the inevitable march of events, and he can see them, can grasp their significance, and, seeing their significance, can abstain from meddling, from following his own will, and aiming at something else. And the chief reason,” thought Prince Andrey, “why one believes in him is that he's Russian, in spite of Madame Genlis's novel and the French proverbs, that his voice shook when he said, ‘What we have been brought to!' and that he choked when he said ‘he would make them eat horseflesh!' ”
It was this feeling, more or less consciously shared by all, that determined the unanimous approval given to the appointment of Kutuzov to the chief command, in accordance with national sentiment, and in opposition to the intrigues at court.
那个牧师太太的脸立即涨得通红，十分激动，她端起准备了很久而未能及时献上的盘子，深深地鞠了一躬，把它捧到库图佐夫面前。
库图佐夫眯起眼睛，脸上流露出笑容，用手托起她的下巴，说：
“多么标致的美人！谢谢，亲爱的！”
他从裤袋里掏出几枚金币放在她的盘子里。
“喂，过得怎样？”库图佐夫一面说，一面向给他准备的房间走去。牧师太太绯红的面颊上绽开两个酒窝，随他走进正房。副官走到台阶上请安德烈公爵和他一道用早饭；半小时后，安德烈公爵又被召唤到库图佐夫那儿。库图佐夫仍然穿着那件敞开的军装，躺在沙发上。他手里拿着一本法文书，安德烈公爵进去时，他合上那本书，用一把小刀夹在读到的地方。安德烈公爵看见了封面，知道是《Les chevaliers du Cygne》①，Madame de Genlis②的作品。
①法语：《天鹅骑士》。
②法语：让利斯夫人。
“弄到什么地步……到什么地步！”库图佐夫突然说，他声音激动，显然，从安德烈公爵的叙述中，他清楚地想象到俄国目前的处境。“给我一段时间，给我一段时间！”他脸上带着愤怒的表情又说，很明显，他不愿继续这个使他激动的话题，他说：“我叫你来，是想让你留在我身边。”
“多谢勋座大人，”安德烈公爵回答说，“但是我怕我不适合再做参谋工作了。”他面带微笑说，库图佐夫注意到了他的微笑，于是疑惑地看了看他。“主要是，”安德烈公爵又说，“我已经习惯团队的生活，我喜欢那些军官们，似乎军官们也喜欢我。离开团队，我会觉得可惜的。如果我辞谢在您身边供职的殊荣，那么请您相信我……”
库图佐夫虚胖的脸上，流露出聪明、和善，同时又含有几分嘲笑的表情。他打断博尔孔斯基的话说：
“遗憾，我真的需要你；不过你是对的，你是对的，我们这儿倒不缺人。顾问总有的是，可是缺乏人才。如果所有的顾问都像你那样到团队里去供职，我们的团队就不会是现在这个样子了。我在奥斯特利茨就记得你……记得，记得，我记得你手擎一面军旗。”库图佐夫说，一回想这段往事，安德烈公爵脸上立刻出现欢快的红晕。库图佐夫拉了拉他的手，把脸给他吻，安德烈公爵又看见老头眼里的泪花。虽然安德烈公爵知道库图佐夫容易流泪，且由于同情他的父丧而对他表示特别的亲切和怜恤，但关于奥斯特利茨的回忆仍使安德烈公爵既愉快又得意。
“上帝保佑，走你自己的路吧。我知道，你的道路，是一条光荣的道路。”他停了一会儿。“在布加勒斯特，我怜惜你来着：当时我务必派遣一个人。”于是库图佐夫改变了话题，谈到土耳其战争和缔结和约的事。“是啊，我遭到不少的责备，”库图佐夫说，“为了那场战争，也为了和约……但是一切来得都恰当其时。Tout vient a point à celui qui sait attendre①那里的顾问也不比这里的少……”他又谈起顾问一事，这个问题老困绕着他。“咳，顾问，顾问！”他说。“如果谁的话都听，那么我们在土耳其，和约就缔结不成，战争也结束不了。欲速则不达，倘若卡缅斯基不死，他会遭殃的。他用三万人突击要塞。攻克一个要塞并不难，难的是赢得整个战役的胜利。而要做到这一点，需要的不是突击和冲锋，而是忍耐和时间。卡缅斯基把兵派往鲁修克，可我只派去两样东西——忍耐和时间——比卡缅斯基攻克更多的要塞，而且逼得土耳其人吃马肉。”他摇了摇头，“法国人也会有这个下场！相信我的话，”库图佐夫拍着胸脯，非常兴奋地说，“我要让他们吃马肉！”他的眼睛又被泪水弄模糊了。
①法语：对善于等待的人，一切都来得恰当其时。
“打一仗是可以的，如果大家都愿意的话，没有什么可说的……可是要知道，亲爱的朋友：没有比忍耐和时间这两个战士更强的了，这两位什么都能办成。可是顾问们n'entenBdent pas de cette oreille，voilà le mal．①一些人要这样，另一些又不这样。怎么办呢？”他问，显然在等着回答。
“你说说看，叫我怎么办？”他重复着，眼睛显得深沉、睿智。
“我告诉你怎么办：我是怎么办的。Dans le doute，mon cher，”他停了一下，“abstiens－toi．”②他慢条斯理地一字一句地说。
“好吧，再会，好朋友；记住，我诚心诚意要分担你的损失，我不是你的勋座，不是公爵，也不是总司令，我是你的父亲。你需要什么，就来找我。再见，亲爱的。”他又拥抱他，吻他。安德烈公爵还没走出门，库图佐夫就轻松地舒了口气，又捧起那本没有看完的让利斯夫人的小说《Les chevaliers du Cygne》③。
①法语：不肯听这个，困难就在这里。
②法语：如果你犹豫不决，亲爱的，那你就先干别的。
③法语：《天鹅骑士》。