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"
He
's
cook
to
some
prince
.
"
"
Eh
,
mounseer
,
Russian
sauce
seems
to
be
sour
to
a
Frenchman
...
sets
his
teeth
on
edge
!
"
said
a
wrinkled
clerk
who
was
standing
behind
Pierre
,
when
the
Frenchman
began
to
cry
.
The
clerk
glanced
round
,
evidently
hoping
that
his
joke
would
be
appreciated
.
Some
people
began
to
laugh
,
others
continued
to
watch
in
dismay
the
executioner
who
was
undressing
the
other
man
.
Pierre
choked
,
his
face
puckered
,
and
he
turned
hastily
away
,
went
back
to
his
trap
muttering
something
to
himself
as
he
went
,
and
took
his
seat
.
As
they
drove
along
he
shuddered
and
exclaimed
several
times
so
audibly
that
the
coachman
asked
him
:
"
What
is
your
pleasure
?
"
"
Where
are
you
going
?
"
shouted
Pierre
to
the
man
,
who
was
driving
to
Lubyánka
Street
.
"
To
the
Governor
's
,
as
you
ordered
,
"
answered
the
coachman
.
"
Fool
!
Idiot
!
"
shouted
Pierre
,
abusing
his
coachman
--
a
thing
he
rarely
did
.
"
Home
,
I
told
you
!
And
drive
faster
,
blockhead
!
"
"
I
must
get
away
this
very
day
,
"
he
murmured
to
himself
.
At
the
sight
of
the
tortured
Frenchman
and
the
crowd
surrounding
the
Lóbnoe
Place
,
Pierre
had
so
definitely
made
up
his
mind
that
he
could
no
longer
remain
in
Moscow
and
would
leave
for
the
army
that
very
day
that
it
seemed
to
him
that
either
he
had
told
the
coachman
this
or
that
the
man
ought
to
have
known
it
for
himself
.
On
reaching
home
Pierre
gave
orders
to
Evstáfey
--
his
head
coachman
who
knew
everything
,
could
do
anything
,
and
was
known
to
all
Moscow
--
that
he
would
leave
that
night
for
the
army
at
Mozháysk
,
and
that
his
saddle
horses
should
be
sent
there
.
This
could
not
all
be
arranged
that
day
,
so
on
Evstáfey
's
representation
Pierre
had
to
put
off
his
departure
till
next
day
to
allow
time
for
the
relay
horses
to
be
sent
on
in
advance
.
