In the Rostóvs’ staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of former conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs the only indication was that three out of their huge retinue disappeared during the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the value of their possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come in from their estates and which many people envied proved to be extremely valuable and they were offered enormous sums of money for them. Not only were huge sums offered for the horses and carts, but on the previous evening and early in the morning of the first of September, orderlies and servants sent by wounded officers came to the Rostóvs’ and wounded men dragged themselves there from the Rostóvs’ and from neighboring houses where they were accommodated, entreating the servants to try to get them a lift out of Moscow. The majordomo to whom these entreaties were addressed, though he was sorry for the wounded, resolutely refused, saying that he dare not even mention the matter to the count. Pity these wounded men as one might, it was evident that if they were given one cart there would be no reason to refuse another, or all the carts and one’s own carriages as well. Thirty carts could not save all the wounded and in the general catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one’s own family. So thought the majordomo on his master’s behalf.