War And Peace: Book 1 - CHAPTER XX

Description

PIERRE KNEW WELL that great room, divided by columns and an arch, and

carpeted with Persian rugs. The part of the room behind the columns, where on

one side there stood a high mahogany bedstead with silken hangings, and on the

other a huge case of holy pictures, was brightly and decoratively lighted up, as

churches are lighted for evening service. Under the gleaming ornamentation of

the case stood a long invalid chair, and in the chair, on snow-white,

uncrumpled, freshly changed pillows, covered to the waist with a bright green

quilt, Pierre recognised the majestic figure of his father, Count Bezuhov, with

the grey shock of hair like a lion's mane over his broad forehead, and the

characteristically aristocratic, deep lines on his handsome, reddish-yellow

face. He was lying directly under the holy pictures: both his great stout arms

were lying on the quilt. In his right hand, which lay with the palm downwards, a

wax candle had been thrust between the thumb and forefinger, and an old servant

bending down over the chair held it in it. About the chair stood the clergy in

their shining ceremonial vestments, with their long hair pulled out over them.

They held lighted candles in their hands, and were performing the service with

deliberate solemnity. A little behind them stood the two younger princesses

holding handkerchiefs to their eyes, and in front of them the eldest, Katish,

stood with a vindictive and determined air, never for an instant taking her eyes

off the holy image, as though she were declaring to all that she would not

answer for herself, if she were to look around. Anna Mihalovna with a

countenance of meek sorrow and forgiveness stood at the door with the unknown

lady. Prince Vassily was standing close to the invalid chair on the other side

of the door. He had drawn a carved, velvet chair up to him, and was leaning on

the back of it with his left hand, in which he held a candle, while with his

right he crossed himself, turning his eyes upwards every time as he put his

finger to his forehead. His face expressed quiet piety and submission to the

will of God. “If you don't understand such feelings, so much the worse for you,”

his face seemed to say.

Behind him stood the adjutant, the doctors, and the men-servants; the men and

the women had separated as though they were in church. All were silently

crossing themselves, nothing was audible but the reading of the service, the

subdued, deep bass singing, and in the intervals of silence sighs could be heard

and the shuffling of feet. With a significant air, which showed she knew what

she was about, Anna Mihalovna walked right across the room to Pierre and gave

him a candle. He lighted it, and absorbed in watching the people around him, he

absent-mindedly crossed himself with the hand in which he held the candle. The

youngest princess, Sophie, the rosy, laughing one with the mole, was looking at

him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and for a long while did not

uncover it. But looking at Pierre again, again she laughed. She was apparently

unable to look at him without laughing, but could not resist looking at him, and

to be out of temptation, she softly moved behind a column. In the middle of the

service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, and they whispered something

to one another. The old servant, who was holding the count's hand, got up and

turned to the ladies. Anna Mihalovna stepped forward and, stooping over the sick

man, she beckoned behind her back to Lorrain. The French doctor had been leaning

against the column without a candle, in the respectful attitude of the

foreigner, who would show that in spite of the difference of religion he

comprehends all the solemnity of the ceremony and even approves of it. With the

noiseless steps of a man in full vigour of his age, he went up to the sick man.

His delicate, white fingers lifted his disengaged hand from the quilt, and

turning away, the doctor began feeling the pulse in absorbed attention. They

gave the sick man some drink; there was a slight bustle around him, then all

went back to their places and the service was continued. During this break in

the proceedings Pierre noticed that Prince Vassily moved away from his

chair-back, and with that same air of being quite sure of what he was about, and

of its being so much the worse for others, if they failed to understand it, he

did not go up to the sick man, but passed by him and joined the eldest princess.

Then together they went away to the further end of the room to the high bedstead

under the silk canopy. When they moved away from the bed the prince and princess

disappeared together by the further door, but before the end of the service they

returned one after the other to their places. Pierre paid no more attention to

this circumstance than to all the rest, having once for all made up his mind

that all that he saw taking place that evening must inevitably be as it

was.

The sounds of the church singing ceased and the voice of the chief

ecclesiastic was heard, respectfully congratulating the sick man on his

reception of the mystery. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before.

Every one was moving about him, there was the sound of footsteps and of

whispers, Anna Mihalovna's whisper rising above the rest.

Pierre heard her say: “Undoubtedly he must be moved on to the bed; it's

impossible …”

The sick man was so surrounded by the doctors, the princesses and the

servants, that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with the grey

mane, which he had never lost sight of for one instant during the ceremony, even

though he had been watching other people too. Pierre guessed from the cautious

movements of the people about the chair that they were lifting the dying man up

and moving him.

“Hold on to my arm; you'll drop him so,” he heard the frightened whisper of

one of the servants. “Lower down … another one here,” said voices. And their

heavy breathing and hurried tread seemed to show that the weight they carried

was too heavy for them.

As they passed him—Anna Mihalovna among them—the young man caught a glimpse

over people's backs and necks of the great muscular open chest, the grey, curly,

leonine head, and the massive shoulders of the sick man, which were pushed up,

as he was supported under the armpits. His head, with its extraordinarily broad

brow and cheek-bones, its beautiful sensual mouth, and haughty, cold eyes, was

not disfigured by the proximity of death. It was just the same as Pierre had

seen it three months before, when his father had been sending him off to

Petersburg. But the head swayed helplessly with the jerky steps of the bearers,

and the cold, apathetic eyes did not know on what to rest.

They were busy for several minutes round the high bed; then the people, who

had moved the count, dispersed. Anna Mihalovna touched Pierre's arm and said,

“Come along.” With her Pierre approached the bed, on which the sick man had been

laid in a ceremonial position in keeping with the sacred rite that had just been

performed. He was lying with his head propped high on the pillows. His hands

were laid symmetrically on the green silk quilt with the palms turned downwards.

When Pierre came up, the count looked straight at him, but he looked at him with

a gaze the intent and significance of which no man could fathom. Either these

eyes said nothing, but simply looked because as eyes they must look at

something, or they said too much. Pierre stopped, not knowing what he was to do,

and looked inquiringly at his monitress. Anna Mihalovna gave him a hurried

glance, with a gesture indicating the sick man's hand and with her lips wafting

towards it a phantom kiss. Pierre did as he was bid, and carefully craning his

neck to avoid entanglement with the quilt, kissed the broad-boned, muscular

hand. There was not the faintest stir in the hand, nor in any muscle of the

count's face. Pierre again looked inquiringly at Anna Mihalovna to learn what he

was to do now. Anna Mihalovna glanced towards the armchair that stood beside the

bed. Pierre proceeded obediently to sit down there, his eyes still inquiring

whether he had done the right thing. Anna Mihalovna nodded approvingly. Again

Pierre fell into the na

$$ Buy "War And Peace: Book 1 - CHAPTER XX" on Amazon $$

Please check the description for download links if any or do a search to find alternative books.

Can't Download?
Please search mirrors if you can't find download links for "War And Peace: Book 1 - CHAPTER XX" in "Description" and someone else may update the links. Check the comments when back to find any updates.

Search Mirrors
Maybe some mirror pages will be helpful, search this book at top of this page or click here to find more info.

1. Ebooks list page : 82
2. War And Peace: Book 4 - CHAPTER V
3. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER III
4. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER II
5. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER I
6. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER IV
7. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XIX
8. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XVI
9. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XV
10. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XIV
11. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER V
12. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER VI
13. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XIX
14. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XVI
15. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XIV
16. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XV