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Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary: Moscow, 17th November I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down what I have experienced.
He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the plea of sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of rest from life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph Alexeevich was connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm thoughts, quite contrary to the restless confusion into which he felt himself being drawn.
Pierre respected this class of Brothers to which the elder ones chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, Joseph Alexeevich himself, but he did not share their interests. His heart was not in the mystical aspect of Freemasonry.
That is what I decided, and what I wrote to Joseph Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the past, to forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of regeneration.
He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor. Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped him in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, coming out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the half-crazy old man.
Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my late master may the kingdom of heaven be his has remained here, but he is in a weak state as you know," said the old servant. Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane brother and a hard drinker. "Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the house.
Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has for three years been suffering from a painful disease of the bladder. No one has ever heard him utter a groan or a word of complaint. From morning till late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at science. He received me graciously and made me sit down on the bed on which he lay.
Have you got it, Makeev?" "Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if you'll step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he added, turning to Rostov. "Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to stay here yourself." But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the assistant to show him the way.
Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held on to the pistol and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic fancy in his head. "To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled. "That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness please, sir, to let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to steer Makar Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door. "Who are you?
In reply to his last question Pierre again explained who Makar Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival that drunken imbecile had seized the loaded pistol which they had not had time to recover from him, and begged the officer to let the deed go unpunished. The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with his arm. "You have saved my life! You are French.
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