dvice--or an order if you prefer
it. I beg you to leave the town and break off all communication
with such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the nonsense out of
anybody"--but probably realizing that he was shouting at Bezukhov who
so far was not guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre's hand in a
friendly manner, "We are on the eve of a public disaster and I haven't
time to be polite to everybody who has business with me. My head is
sometimes in a whirl. Well, mon cher, what are you doing personally?"

"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing the
thoughtful expression of his face.

The count frowned.

"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, that's
all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-by, my dear
fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after Pierre,
"is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy
fathers of the Society of Jesus?"

Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and angry
than he had ever before shown himself.

When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight people had
come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, the colonel
of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various petitioners.
They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions from him. Pierre
did not understand and was not interested in any of these questions and
only answered them in order to get rid of these people. When left alone
at last he opened and read his wife's letter.

"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old
man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... the
meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting married... One
must forget and understand..." And going to his bed he threw himself on
it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.

When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that a
special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count Rostopchin to
know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving the town.

A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in the
drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to see
them, went to the back porch and out through the gate.

From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of
Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre again
or knew where he was.