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Just
before
dinner
,
Count
Ilyá
Rostóv
presented
his
son
to
Bagratión
,
who
recognized
him
and
said
a
few
words
to
him
,
disjointed
and
awkward
,
as
were
all
the
words
he
spoke
that
day
,
and
Count
Ilyá
looked
joyfully
and
proudly
around
while
Bagratión
spoke
to
his
son
.
Nicholas
Rostóv
,
with
Denísov
and
his
new
acquaintance
,
Dólokhov
,
sat
almost
at
the
middle
of
the
table
.
Facing
them
sat
Pierre
,
beside
Prince
Nesvítski
.
Count
Ilyá
Rostóv
with
the
other
members
of
the
committee
sat
facing
Bagratión
and
,
as
the
very
personification
of
Moscow
hospitality
,
did
the
honors
to
the
prince
.
His
efforts
had
not
been
in
vain
.
The
dinner
,
both
the
Lenten
and
the
other
fare
,
was
splendid
,
yet
he
could
not
feel
quite
at
ease
till
the
end
of
the
meal
.
He
winked
at
the
butler
,
whispered
directions
to
the
footmen
,
and
awaited
each
expected
dish
with
some
anxiety
.
Everything
was
excellent
.
With
the
second
course
,
a
gigantic
sterlet
(
at
sight
of
which
Ilyá
Rostóv
blushed
with
self-conscious
pleasure
)
,
the
footmen
began
popping
corks
and
filling
the
champagne
glasses
.
After
the
fish
,
which
made
a
certain
sensation
,
the
count
exchanged
glances
with
the
other
committeemen
.
"
There
will
be
many
toasts
,
it
's
time
to
begin
,
"
he
whispered
,
and
taking
up
his
glass
,
he
rose
.
All
were
silent
,
waiting
for
what
he
would
say
.
"
To
the
health
of
our
Sovereign
,
the
Emperor
!
"
he
cried
,
and
at
the
same
moment
his
kindly
eyes
grew
moist
with
tears
of
joy
and
enthusiasm
.
The
band
immediately
struck
up
"
Conquest
's
joyful
thunder
waken
.
.
"
All
rose
and
cried
"
Hurrah
!
"
Bagratión
also
rose
and
shouted
"
Hurrah
!
"
in
exactly
the
same
voice
in
which
he
had
shouted
it
on
the
field
at
Schön
Grabern
.
Young
Rostóv
's
ecstatic
voice
could
be
heard
above
the
three
hundred
others
.
He
nearly
wept
.
"
To
the
health
of
our
Sovereign
,
the
Emperor
!
"
he
roared
,
"
Hurrah
!
"
and
emptying
his
glass
at
one
gulp
he
dashed
it
to
the
floor
.
Many
followed
his
example
,
and
the
loud
shouting
continued
for
a
long
time
.
When
the
voices
subsided
,
the
footmen
cleared
away
the
broken
glass
and
everybody
sat
down
again
,
smiling
at
the
noise
they
had
made
and
exchanging
remarks
.
The
old
count
rose
once
more
,
glanced
at
a
note
lying
beside
his
plate
,
and
proposed
a
toast
,
"
To
the
health
of
the
hero
of
our
last
campaign
,
Prince
Peter
Ivánovich
Bagratión
!
"
and
again
his
blue
eyes
grew
moist
.
"
Hurrah
!
"
cried
the
three
hundred
voices
again
,
but
instead
of
the
band
a
choir
began
singing
a
cantata
composed
by
Paul
Ivánovich
Kutúzov
:
Russians
!
O'er
all
barriers
on
!
Courage
conquest
guarantees
;
Have
we
not
Bagratión
?
He
brings
foemen
to
their
knees
,
...
etc.
.
As
soon
as
the
singing
was
over
,
another
and
another
toast
was
proposed
and
Count
Ilyá
Rostóv
became
more
and
more
moved
,
more
glass
was
smashed
,
and
the
shouting
grew
louder
.
They
drank
to
Bekleshëv
,
Narýshkin
,
Uvárov
,
Dolgorúkov
,
Apráksin
,
Valúev
,
to
the
committee
,
to
all
the
club
members
and
to
all
the
club
guests
,
and
finally
to
Count
Ilyá
Rostóv
separately
,
as
the
organizer
of
the
banquet
.
At
that
toast
,
the
count
took
out
his
handkerchief
and
,
covering
his
face
,
wept
outright
.
