"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius-that's what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... Iassure you I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was anemigrant count.... But that man has vanquished me. He has taken holdof me. I could not resist the sight of the grandeur and glory withwhich he has covered France. When I understood what he wanted- whenI saw that he was preparing a bed of laurels for us, you know, Isaid to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and I devoted myself to him! Sothere! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest man of the ages past orfuture."

　　"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look.

　　The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.

　　"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued histalk.

　　Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices atthe gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussarshad come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where thecaptain's horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly becausethe hussars did not understand what was said to them in French.

　　The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a sternvoice asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commandingofficer, and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters thatwere already occupied. The German who knew little French, answered thetwo first questions by giving the names of his regiment and of hiscommanding officer, but in reply to the third question which he didnot understand said, introducing broken French into his own German,that he was the quartermaster of the regiment and his commander hadordered him to occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, whoknew German, translated what the German said to the captain and gavethe captain's reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he hadunderstood what was said to him, the German submitted and took his menelsewhere. The captain went out into the porch and gave some orders ina loud voice.

　　When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place asbefore, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. Hereally was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out andhe was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized theposition he was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or thatthe happy conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him.Painful as that was it was not that which tormented Pierre at themoment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. Thefew glasses of wine he had drunk and the conversation with thisgood-natured man had destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in whichhe had spent the last few days and which was essential for theexecution of his design. The pistol, dagger, and peasant coat wereready. Napoleon was to enter the town next day. Pierre stillconsidered that it would be a useful and worthy action to slay theevildoer, but now he felt that he would not do it. He did not knowwhy, but he felt a foreboding that he would not carry out hisintention. He struggled against the confession of his weakness butdimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his former gloomyframe of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-sacrifice,had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he met.