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Volume I, Part Two, Chapter IV

On the evening of the same day there was an animated conversation among the officers of the squadron at Denisov's quarters.

— But I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the regimental commander, — a tall staff-captain, with graying hair, a huge moustache, and large features on a wrinkled face, was saying, addressing the crimson, agitated Rostov.

Staff-Captain Kirsten had twice been degraded to the ranks for affairs of honor, and had twice won back his commission.

— I will allow no one to tell me that I am lying! — cried Rostov. — He told me I was lying, and I told him he was lying. And there the matter will rest. He may put me on duty every day and place me under arrest, but no one will force me to apologize, because if he, as regimental commander, considers it beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then...

— Just wait, my dear fellow; you listen to me, — interrupted the staff-captain in his deep bass voice, calmly smoothing his long moustache. — You tell the regimental commander in the presence of other officers that an officer has stolen...

— It's not my fault that the conversation arose in front of other officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but I am not a diplomat. That's why I joined the hussars, I thought that no subtleties were needed here, and he tells me I am lying... so let him give me satisfaction...

— That's all very well, no one thinks you are a coward, but that's not the point. Ask Denisov whether it is at all the thing for a cadet to demand satisfaction of his regimental commander?

Denisov, biting his moustache, listened to the conversation with a gloomy air, evidently not wishing to take part in it. At the staff-captain's question he shook his head negatively.

— You speak to the regimental commander about this dirty business in front of officers, — continued the staff-captain. — Bogdanych (Bogdanych was the regimental commander's name) put you in your place.

— He didn't put me in my place, he said I was telling an untruth.

— Well, yes, and you talked nonsense to him, and you must apologize.

— Not for anything! — shouted Rostov.

— I didn't expect this of you, — said the staff-captain seriously and sternly. — You don't want to apologize, but, my dear fellow, you are entirely in the wrong, not only before him, but before the whole regiment, before all of us. And here's why: if you had thought and asked advice how to deal with this matter, but you just blurted it straight out, and before officers, too. What is the regimental commander to do now? Bring the officer to trial and smear the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment on account of one scoundrel? Is that your idea? Well, it's not ours. And Bogdanych is a fine fellow, he told you you were not telling the truth. It's unpleasant, but what's to be done, my dear fellow, you brought it on yourself. And now, when they want to hush the matter up, out of some sort of pride you don't want to apologize, but want to tell everything. It offends you that you'll be put on duty, but what is it to apologize to an old and honorable officer! Whatever Bogdanych may be, he's still an honorable and brave old colonel, so it offends you; but to smear the regiment is nothing to you? — The staff-captain's voice began to tremble. — You, my dear fellow, have been in the regiment a week; here today, tomorrow transferred to be some sort of adjutant; you don't care a spit if they say: "There are thieves among the Pavlograd officers!" But it is not a matter of indifference to us. Is that so, Denisov? It's not a matter of indifference, is it?

Denisov remained silent and motionless, occasionally glancing at Rostov with his sparkling black eyes.

— You prize your own pride, you don't want to apologize, — continued the staff-captain, — but to us old men, who have grown up in, and, God willing, will be brought to die in the regiment, the honor of the regiment is dear, and Bogdanych knows it. Oh, how dear, my boy! And this is not good, not good! Take offense or not, but I shall always speak the mother-truth. Not good!

And the staff-captain stood up and turned away from Rostov.

— That's the truth, devil take it! — shouted Denisov, jumping up. — Now then, Rostov, now then!

Rostov, blushing and growing pale, looked from one officer to the other.

— No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand, you're wrong in thinking that of me... I... for me... I am for the honor of the regiment... but why? I'll show that in action, and for me the honor of the flag... well, never mind, it's true, I'm to blame!... — Tears stood in his eyes. — I'm to blame, entirely to blame!... Well, what more do you want?...

— That's the way, Count, — cried the staff-captain, turning round and slapping him on the shoulder with his large hand.

— I tell you, — shouted Denisov, — he's a glorious fellow.

— That's better, Count, — repeated the staff-captain, as if beginning to address him by his title for his confession. — Go and apologize, your excellency, yes, sir.

— Gentlemen, I'll do anything, no one will hear a word from me, — Rostov said in an imploring voice, — but I can't apologize, by God, I can't, do what you will! How am I to apologize, like a little boy, asking forgiveness?

Denisov laughed.

— It'll be the worse for you. Bogdanych is vindictive, you'll pay for your obstinacy, — said Kirsten.

— By God, it's not obstinacy! I can't describe to you what the feeling is, I can't...

— Well, as you please, — said the staff-captain. — Well, where has that scoundrel disappeared to? — he asked Denisov.

— He has reported sick, tomorrow he is ordered to be struck off the strength, — said Denisov.

— It is an illness, there is no other way to explain it, — said the staff-captain.

— Illness or not illness, but he'd better not catch my eye — I'll kill him! — Denisov cried bloodthirstily.

Zherkov entered the room.

— How did you come here? — the officers suddenly turned to the newcomer.

— We're marching, gentlemen. Mack has surrendered with his army, entirely.

— You're lying!

— I saw it myself.

— What? You saw Mack alive? With hands and feet?

— Marching! Marching! Give him a bottle for such news. But how did you get here?

— I've been sent back to the regiment again, for the devil, for Mack. An Austrian general complained. I congratulated him on Mack's arrival... What's the matter, Rostov, you look as if you've just come out of a bath?

— We've been in such a mess here, brother, for two days.

The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by Zherkov. Orders were given to march tomorrow.

— We march, gentlemen!

— Well, thank God, we've sat here long enough.