“I was very glad of his appointment, that’s all I know,” replied Prince Andréy.
“And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are saying heaven knows what about him. … What do you think of him?”
“Ask them,” replied Prince Andréy, indicating the officers.
Pierre looked at Timókhin with the condescendingly interrogative smile with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer.
“We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your excellency,” said Timókhin timidly, and continually turning to glance at his colonel.
“Why so?” asked Pierre.
“Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. Why, when we were retreating from Sventsyáni we dare not touch a stick or a wisp of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would get it all; wasn’t it so, your excellency?” and again Timókhin turned to the prince. “But we daren’t. In our regiment two officers were court-martialed for that kind of thing. But when his Serenity took command everything became straightforward. Now we see light. …”
“Then why was it forbidden?”
Timókhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to answer such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andréy.
“Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the enemy,” said Prince Andréy with venomous irony. “It is very sound: one can’t permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to marauding. At Smolénsk too he judged correctly that the French might outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand this,”