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Updated: May 16, 2025
I was on the point of demanding, in the name of friendship, a full explanation.... He anticipated me. One day I was sitting in his room.... 'Petya, he said suddenly, blushing gaily, and looking me straight in the face, 'I must introduce you to my muse. 'Your muse! how queerly you talk! Like a classicist. Have you written a new poem, or what?
Natasha apparently tried not to be a burden or a hindrance to anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She kept away from everyone in the house and felt at ease only with her brother Petya. She liked to be with him better than with the others, and when alone with him she sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left the house and of those who came to see them was glad to see only one person, Pierre.
When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish to send somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to be sent that the general could not refuse.
Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below to the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had come for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew nor waited to know anything of all this.
When they had all ridden by, Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. Slipping onto their haunches and sliding, the horses descended with their riders into the ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation of his body constantly increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, but the mist still hid distant objects.
He remembered a general impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of people and of being worried by the curiosity of officers and generals who questioned him, he also remembered his difficulty in procuring a conveyance and horses, and above all he remembered his incapacity to think and feel all that time. On the day of his rescue he had seen the body of Petya Rostov.
"No." "And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to." "Why should you be ashamed?" "Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed." "And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's previous remark. "Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha. "Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, with the air of an old brigadier.
The infantry of the detachment passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the trees in the mist of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through the mud. The esaul gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse by the bridle, impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, having been bathed in cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were particularly brilliant.
The music became more and more audible. The melody grew and passed from one instrument to another. And what was played was a fugue though Petya had not the least conception of what a fugue is.
And the schoolboys, Anna's brothers, Petya and Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, whispering in confusion: "Father, hush! . . . Father, that's enough. . . ." When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after the train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, pitiful face he had: "Hurra ah!" he shouted. The happy pair were left alone.
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