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ening in the people the feeling he was himself possessed by—hatred of the French and confidence in himself。
But when the catastrophe had begun to take its true historic proportions； when to express hatred of the French in words was plainly insufficient； when it was impossible to express that hatred even by a battle； when self…confidence was of no avail in regard to the one question before Moscow； when the whole population； as one man； abandoning their property； streamed out of Moscow； in this negative fashion giving proof of the strength of their patriotism；—then the part Rastoptchin had been playing suddenly became meaningless。 He felt suddenly deserted； weak； and absurd； with no ground to stand on。
On being waked out of his sleep to read Kutuzov’s cold and peremptory note； Rastoptchin felt the more irritated the more he felt himself to blame。 There was still left in Moscow all that was under his charge； all the government property which it was his duty to have removed to safety。 There was no possibility of getting it all away。 “Who is responsible for it？ who has let it come to such a pass？” he wondered。 “Of course； it’s not my doing。 I had everything in readiness； I held Moscow in my hand—like this！ And see what they have brought things to！ Scoundrels； traitors！” he thought； not exactly defining who were these scoundrels and traitors； but feeling a necessity to hate these vaguely imagined traitors； who were to blame for the false and ludicrous position in which he found himself。
All that night Rastoptchin was giving instructions； for which people were continually coming to him from every part of Moscow。 His subordinates had never seen the count so gloomy and irascible。
“Your excellency； they have come from the Estates Department； from the director for instructions。… From the Consistory； from the Senate； from the university； from the Foundling Hospital； the vicar has sent … he is inquiring … what orders are to be given about the fire brigade？ The overseer of the prison … the superintendent of the mad…house …” all night long； without pause； messages were being brought to the count。
To all these inquiries he gave brief and wrathful replies； the drift of which was that his instructions were now not needed； that all his careful preparations had now been ruined by somebody； and that that somebody would have to take all responsibility for anything that might happen now。
“Oh； tell that blockhead；” he replied to the inquiry from the Estates Department； “to stay and keep guard over his deeds。 Well； what nonsense are you asking about the fire brigade？ There are horses； let them go off to Vladimir。 Don’t leave them for the French。”
“Your excellency； the superintendent of the madhouse has come； what are your commands？”
“My commands？ Let them all go； that’s all。… And let the madmen out into the town。 When we have madmen in command of our armies； it seems it’s God’s will they should be free。”
To the inquiry about the convicts in the prison； the count shouted angrily to the overseer：
“What； do you want me to give you two battalions for a convoy for them； when we haven’t any battalions at all？ Let them all go； and that settles it！”
“Your excellency； there are political prisoners—Myeshkov； Vereshtchagin …”
“Vereshtchagin！ He is not yet hanged？” cried Rastoptchin。 “Send him to me。”
Chapter 25
BY NINE O’CLOCK in the morning； when the troops were moving across Moscow； people had ceased coming to Rastoptchin for instructions。 All who could get away were going without asking leave； those who stayed decided for themselves what they had better do。
Count Rastoptchin ordered his horses in order to drive to Sokolniky； and with a yellow and frowning face； sat in silence with folded arms in his study。
Every governing official in quiet； untroubled times feels that the whole population under his charge is only kept going by his efforts； and it is this sense of being indispensably necessary in which every governing official finds the chief reward for his toils and cares。 It is easy to understand that while the ocean of history is calm； the governing official holding on from his crazy little skiff by a pole to the ship of the people； and moving with it； must fancy that it is his efforts that move the ship on to which he is clinging。 But a storm has but to arise to set the sea heaving and the ship tossing upon it； and such error becomes at once impossible。 The ship goes on its vast course unchecked； the pole fails to reach the moving vessel； and the pilot； from being the master； the source of power； finds himself a helpless； weak； and useless person。
Rastoptchin felt this； and it drove him to frenzy。 The head of the police； who had got away from the crowd； went in to see him at the same time as an adjutant； who came to announce that his horses were ready。 Both were pale； and the head of the police； after reporting that he had discharged the commission given to him； informed Count Rastoptchin that there was an immense crowd of people in his courtyard wanting to see him。
Without a word in reply； Count Rastoptchin got up and walked with rapid steps to his light； sumptuously furnished drawing…room。 He went up to the balcony door； took hold of the door…handle； let go of it； and moved away to the window； from which the whole crowd could be better seen。 The tall young fellow was standing in the front； and with a severe face； waving his arms and saying something。 The blood…bespattered smith stood beside him with a gloomy air。 Through the closed windows could be heard the roar of voices。
“Is the carriage ready？” said Rastoptchin； moving back from the window。
“Yes； your excellency；” said the adjutant。
Rastoptchin went again to the balcony door。
“Why； what is it they want？” he asked the head of the police。
“Your excellency； they say they have come together to go to fight the French； by your orders； they were shouting something about treachery。 But it is an angry crowd； your excellency。 I had much ado to get away。 If I may venture to suggest； your excellency …”
“Kindly leave me； I know what to do without your assistance；” cried Rastoptchin angrily。 He stood at the door of the balcony looking at the crowd。 “This is what they have done with Russia！ This is what they have done with me！” thought Rastoptchin； feeling a rush of irrepressible rage against the undefined some one to whose fault what was happening could be set down。 As is often the case with excitable persons； he was possessed by fury； while still seeking an object for it。 “Here is the populace； the dregs of the people；” he thought； looking at the crowd； “that they have stirred up by their folly。 They want a victim；” came into his mind； as he watched the waving arm of the tall fellow in front。 And the thought struck him precisely because he too wanted a victim； an object for his wrath。
“Is the carriage ready？” he asked again。
“Yes； your excellency。 What orders in regard to Vereshtchagin？ He is waiting at the steps；” answered the adjutant。
“Ah！” cried Rastoptchin； as though struck by some sudden recollection。
And rapidly opening the door； he walked resolutely out on the balcony。 The hum of talk instantly died down； caps and