ov； mentioning his name； announced that he had to communicate to his highness a matter of great importance for the welfare of Russia。 Kutuzov bent his weary eyes on Denisov； and； lifting his hands with a gesture of annoyance； folded them across his stomach； and repeated； “For the welfare of Russia？ Well； what is it？ Speak。” Denisov blushed like a girl （it was strange to see the colour come on that hirsute； time…worn； hard…drinking face）； and began boldly explaining his plan for cutting the enemy’s line between Smolensk and Vyazma。 Denisov’s home was in that region； and he knew the country well。 His plan seemed unquestionably a good one； especially with the energy of conviction that was in his words。 Kutuzov stared at his own feet； and occasionally looked round towards the yard of the next cottage； as though he were expecting something unpleasant to come from it。 From the cottage there did in fact emerge； during Denisov’s speech； a general with a portfolio under his arm。
“Eh？” Kutuzov inquired in the middle of Denisov’s exposition； “are you ready now？”
“Yes； your highness；” said the general。 Kutuzov shook his head with an air that seemed to say； “How is one man to get through it all？” and gave his attention again to Denisov。
“I give you my word of honour as a Russian officer；” Denisov was saying； “that I will cut Napoleon’s communications。”
“Is Kirill Andreivitch Denisov； the ober…intendant； any relation of yours？” Kutuzov interposed。
“My uncle； your highness。”
“Oh！ we used to be friends；” said Kutuzov； more cheerily。 “Very good； very good； my dear boy； you stay here on the staff； we’ll have a talk to…morrow。” Nodding to Denisov； he turned away and put out his hand for the papers Konovnitsyn had brought him。
“Will not your highness be pleased to walk into the house？” said the general on duty in a discontented voice； “it’s necessary to look through the plans and to sign some papers。” An adjutant appeared at the door to announce that everything was in readiness within。 But apparently Kutuzov preferred to be rid of business before going indoors。 He paused …
“No； have a table placed here； my dear boy； I’ll look through them here；” he said。 “Don’t you go away；” he added； addressing Prince Andrey。 Prince Andrey remained in the porch listening to the general on duty。
While the latter was presenting his report Prince Andrey heard the whisper of a woman’s voice and the rustle of a woman’s silk dress at the door。 Several times glancing in that direction he noticed behind the door a plump； rosy…faced； good…looking woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief on her head。 She had a dish in her hand and was apparently waiting for the commander…in…chief to enter。 Kutuzov’s adjutant explained to Prince Andrey in a whisper that this was the priest’s wife； the mistress of the house； who intended to offer his highness bread and salt； the emblems of welcome； on his entrance。 Her husband had met his highness with the cross in church； and she intended to welcome him to the house。… “She’s very pretty；” added the adjutant with a smile。 Kutuzov looked round at the words。 He heard the general’s report； the subject of which was chiefly a criticism of the position of the troops before Tsarevo…Zaimishtche； just as he had heard Denisov； and just as； seven years before； he had heard the discussions of the military council before Austerlitz。 He was obviously hearing it simply because he had ears； and although one of them was stuffed up with cotton…wool they could not help hearing。 But it was obvious that nothing that general could possibly say could surprise or interest him； that he knew beforehand all he would be told； and listened only because he had to listen to it； just as one has to listen to the litany being sung。 All Denisov had said was practical and sensible。 What the general was saying was even more practical and sensible； but apparently Kutuzov despised both knowledge and intellect； and knew of something else that would settle things—something different； quite apart from intellect and knowledge。 Prince Andrey watched the commander…in…chief’s face attentively； and the only expression he could detect in it was an expression of boredom； of curiosity to know the meaning of the feminine whispering at the door； and of a desire to observe the proprieties。 It was obvious that Kutuzov despised intellect and learning； and even the patriotic feeling Denisov had shown； but he did not despise them through intellect； nor through sentiment； nor through learning （for he made no effort to display anything of the kind）； he despised them through something else—through his old age； through his experience of life。 The only instruction of his own that Kutuzov inserted in the report related to acts of marauding by Russian troops。 The general； at the end of the report； presented his highness a document for signature relating to a petition for damages from a landowner for the cutting of his oats by certain officers。
Kutuzov smacked his lips together and shook his head； as he listened to the matter。
“Into the stove … into the fire with it！ And I tell you once for all； my dear fellow；” he said； “all such things put into the fire。 Let them cut the corn and burn the wood to their heart’s content。 It’s not by my orders and it’s not with my permission； but I can’t pursue the matter。 It can’t be helped。 You can’t hew down trees without the chips flying。” He glanced once more at the paper。 “Oh； this German preciseness；” he commented； shaking his head。
Chapter 16
“WELL； now； that’s all；” said Kutuzov； as he signed the last paper； and rising clumsily； and straightening his fat； white neck； he went to the door with a more cheerful countenance。
The priest’s wife； with the colour rushing to her face； snatched up the dish； and though she had been so long preparing； she did not succeed in presenting it at the right moment。 With a low bow she offered it to Kutuzov。 Kutuzov screwed up his eyes。 He smiled； chucked her under the chin； and said：
“And what a pretty face！ Thank you； my dear！”
He took some gold coins out of his trouser pocket； and put them on the dish。 “Well； and how are we getting on？” he said； going towards the room that had been assigned him。 The priest’s wife； with smiling dimples on her rosy face； followed to show him the room。 The adjutant came out to Prince Andrey in the porch； and invited him to lunch。 Half an hour later Kutuzov sent for Prince Andrey。 He was reclining in a low chair； still in the same unbuttoned military coat。 He had a French novel in his hand； and at Prince Andrey’s entrance laid a paper…knife in it and put it aside。 It was Les Chevaliers du Cygne； a work by Madame de Genlis； as Prince Andrey saw by the cover。
“Well； sit down； sit down here。 Let us have a little talk；” said Kutuzov。 “It’s sad； very sad。 But remember； my dear； think of me as a father； another father； to you …！”
Prince Andrey told Kutuzov all he knew about his father’s end； and what he had seen at Bleak Hills。
“To think what we have been brought to！” Kutuzov cried suddenly； in a voice full of feeling； Prince Andrey’s story evidently bringing vividly before him the position of Russia。
“Wait a bit； wait a bit！” he added； with a vindictive look in his face； and apparently unwilling to continue a conversation that stirred him too deeply； he said：
“I sent for you to keep you with me。”
“I thank your highness！” answered Prince Andrey； “but I am afraid I am no more good for staff work；” he said； with a smile； which Kutuzov noticed。 He looked at him inquiringly。 “And the great thing is；” added Prince Andrey； “I am used to my regiment。 I like the officers； and I think the men have come to like me。 I should be sorry to leave the regiment。 If I decline the honour of being in attendance on you； believe me …”
Kutuzov’s podgy face beamed with a shrewd； good…natured； and yet subtly ironical expression。 He cut Bolkonsky short。
“I’m sure you would have been of use to me。 But you’re right； you’re right。 It’s not here that we want men。 There are always a multitude of counsellors； but men are scarce。 The regiments wouldn’t be what they are if all the would…be counsellors would serve in them like you。 I remember you at Austerlitz。 I remember； I remember you with the flag！” said Kutuzov； and a flush of pleasure came into Prince Andrey’s face at this reminiscence。 Kutuzov held out his hand to him； offering him his cheek to kiss； and again Prince Andrey saw tears in the old man’s eye。 Though Prince Andrey knew Kutuzov’s tears were apt to come easily； and that he was particularly affectionate and tender with him from the desire to show sympathy with his loss； yet he felt this reminder of Austerlitz agreeable and flattering。
“Go your own way； and God bless you in it。 … I know your path is the path of honour！” He paused。 “I missed you at Bucharest。 I wanted some one to send …” And changing the subject； Kutuzov began talking of the Turkish war； and of the peace that had been concluded。 “Yes； I have been roundly abused；” he said； “both for the war and the peace … but it all happened in the nick of time。” “ ‘Everything comes in time for him who knows how to wait；’ ” he said；