'Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!' she said, 'and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me,' she added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. 'We must go at once, at once!' she said, appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of the French.
'If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! That I, the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General Rameau for protection and accepted his favor!' This idea horrified her, made her shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and pride as she had never experienced before. All that was distressing, and especially all that was humiliating, in her position rose vividly to her mind. 'They, the French, would settle in this house: M. le General Rameau would occupy Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself by looking through and reading his letters and papers. Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honors of Bogucharovo for him. I should be given a small room as a favor, the soldiers would violate my father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses and stars, they would tell me of their victories over the Russians, and would pretend to sympathize with my sorrow...' thought Princess Mary, not thinking her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father and her brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their thoughts and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what they would have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into Prince Andrew's study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, and considered her position.
The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her father's death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously unknown force and took possession of her.
Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the other maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statement was correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the police. Neither could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being sent for came in with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With just the same smile of agreement with which for fifteen years he had been accustomed to answer the old prince without expressing views of his own, he now replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite could be got from his answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, emaciated face that bore the stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: 'Yes, Princess' to all Princess Mary's questions and hardly refrained from sobbing as he looked at her.
At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a deep bow to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost.
Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of him.
'Dronushka,' she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to the fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, 'Dronushka, now since our misfortune...' she began, but could not go on.
'We are all in God's hands,' said he, with a sigh.
They were silent for a while.
'Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to turn to. Is true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?'
'Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go,' said Dron.
'I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, I can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go away tonight or early tomorrow morning.'
Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: 'There are no horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so.'
'Why are there none?' asked the princess.
'It's all God's scourge,' said Dron. 'What horses we had have been taken for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a case of feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some go three days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined.'
Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her.
'The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?' she asked.
'They're dying of hunger,' said Dron. 'It's not a case of carting.'
'But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help them? I'll do all I can....'
To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such sorrow was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, and the rich could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard vaguely that there was such a thing as 'landlord's corn' which was sometimes given to the peasants. She also knew that neither her father nor her brother would refuse to help the peasants in need, she only feared to make some mistake in speaking about the distribution of the grain she wished to give. She was glad such cares presented themselves, enabling her without scruple to forget her own grief. She began asking Dron about the peasants' needs and what there was in Bogucharovo that belonged to the landlord.
'But we have grain belonging to my brother?' she said.
'The landlord's grain is all safe,' replied Dron proudly. 'Our prince did not order it to be sold.'
'Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you leave in my brother's name,' said she.
Dron made no answer but sighed deeply.
'Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. I give this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is ours is theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so.'
Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking.
'Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be taken from me,' said he. 'I have served twenty-three years and have done no wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!'
Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the peasants.
CHAPTER XI
