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- Стр. 1035/1273
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"
How
can
one
help
it
,
lad
?
My
name
is
Platón
,
and
the
surname
is
Karatáev
,
"
he
added
,
evidently
wishing
to
make
it
easier
for
Pierre
to
address
him
.
"
They
call
me
'
little
falcon
'
in
the
regiment
.
How
is
one
to
help
feeling
sad
?
Moscow
--
she
's
the
mother
of
cities
.
How
can
one
see
all
this
and
not
feel
sad
?
But
'
the
maggot
gnaws
the
cabbage
,
yet
dies
first
'
;
that
's
what
the
old
folks
used
to
tell
us
,
"
he
added
rapidly
.
"
What
?
What
did
you
say
?
"
asked
Pierre
.
"
Who
?
I
?
"
said
Karatáev
.
"
I
say
things
happen
not
as
we
plan
but
as
God
judges
,
"
he
replied
,
thinking
that
he
was
repeating
what
he
had
said
before
,
and
immediately
continued
:
"
Well
,
and
you
,
have
you
a
family
estate
,
sir
?
And
a
house
?
So
you
have
abundance
,
then
?
And
a
housewife
?
And
your
old
parents
,
are
they
still
living
?
"
he
asked
.
And
though
it
was
too
dark
for
Pierre
to
see
,
he
felt
that
a
suppressed
smile
of
kindliness
puckered
the
soldier
's
lips
as
he
put
these
questions
.
He
seemed
grieved
that
Pierre
had
no
parents
,
especially
that
he
had
no
mother
.
"
A
wife
for
counsel
,
a
mother-in-law
for
welcome
,
but
there
's
none
as
dear
as
one
's
own
mother
!
"
said
he
.
"
Well
,
and
have
you
little
ones
?
"
he
went
on
asking
.
Again
Pierre
's
negative
answer
seemed
to
distress
him
,
and
he
hastened
to
add
:
"
Never
mind
!
You
're
young
folks
yet
,
and
please
God
may
still
have
some
.
The
great
thing
is
to
live
in
harmony
...
"
"
But
it
's
all
the
same
now
,
"
Pierre
could
not
help
saying
.
"
Ah
,
my
dear
fellow
!
"
rejoined
Karatáev
,
"
never
decline
a
prison
or
a
beggar
's
sack
!
"
