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“All the same； my dear fellow；” he said； gazing from a distance at his finger…nails； and wrinkling up the skin over his left eye； “notwithstanding my high esteem for the holy Russian armament； I own that your victory is not so remarkably victorious。”
He went on talking in French； only uttering in Russian those words to which he wished to give a contemptuous intonation。
“Why？ with the whole mass of your army you fell upon the unlucky Mortier with one division； and Mortier slipped through your fingers？ Where’s the victory？”
“Seriously speaking； though；” answered Prince Andrey； “we can at least say without boasting that it’s rather better than Ulm…”
“Why didn’t you capture us one； at least； one marshal？”
“Because everything isn’t done as one expects it will be； and things are not as regular as on parade。 We had expected； as I told you； to attack the enemy in the rear at seven o’clock in the morning； but we did not arrive at it until five o’clock in the evening。”
“But why didn’t you do it at seven in the morning？ You ought to have done it at seven in the morning；” said Bilibin； smiling； “you ought to have done it at seven in the morning。”
“Why didn’t you succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic methods that he had better leave Genoa alone？” said Prince Andrey in the same tone。
“I know；” broke in Bilibin； “you are thinking that it’s very easy to capture marshals； sitting on the sofa by one’s fireside。 That’s true； but still why didn’t you capture him？ And you needn’t feel surprised if the most august Emperor and King Francis； like the war minister； is not very jubilant over your victory。 Why； even I； a poor secretary of the Russian Embassy； feel no necessity to testify my rejoicing by giving my Franz a thaler and sending him out for a holiday to disport himself with his Liebchen on the Prater…though it’s true there is no Prater here…” He looked straight at Prince Andrey and suddenly let the creases drop out of his puckered forehead。
“Now it’s my turn to ask you ‘why；’ my dear boy；” said Bolkonsky。 “I must own that I don’t understand it； perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties in it that are beyond my feeble intellect； but I can’t make it out。 Mack loses a whole army； Archduke Ferdinand and Archduke Karl give no sign of life and make one blunder after another； Kutuzov alone gains at last a decisive victory； breaks the prestige of invincibility of the French； and the minister of war does not even care to learn the details！”
“For that very reason； my dear boy； don’t you see！ Hurrah for the Tsar； for Russia； for the faith！ That’s all very nice； but what have we； I mean the Austrian court； to do with your victories？ You bring us good news of a victory of Archduke Karl or Ferdinand—one archduke’s as good as the other； as you know—if it’s only a victory over a fire brigade of Bonaparte； and it will be another matter； it will set the cannons booming。 But this can only tantalise us； as if it were done on purpose。 Archduke Karl does nothing； Archduke Ferdinand covers himself with disgrace； you abandon Vienna； give up its defence； as though you would say to us； God is with us； and the devil take you and your capital。 One general； whom we all loved； Schmidt； you put in the way of a bullet； and then congratulate us on your victory！…You must admit that anything more exasperating than the news you have brought could not be conceived。 It’s as though it were done on purpose； done on purpose。 But apart from that； if you were to gain a really brilliant victory； if Archduke Karl even were to win a victory； what effect could it have on the general course of events？ It’s too late now； when Vienna is occupied by the French forces。”
“Occupied？ Vienna occupied？”
“Not only is Vienna occupied； but Bonaparte is at Sch？nbrunn； and the count—our dear Count Urbna—is setting off to receive his orders。”
After the fatigues and impressions of his journey and his reception； and even more after the dinner he had just eaten； Bolkonsky felt that he could not take in all the significance of the words he had just heard。
“Count Lichtenfels was here this morning；” pursued Bilibin； “and he showed me a letter containing a full description of the parade of the French at Vienna。 Prince Murat and all the rest of it … You see that your victory is not a great matter for rejoicing； and that you can’t be received as our deliverer…”
“Really； I don’t care about that； I don’t care in the slightest！” said Prince Andrey； beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems was really of little importance in view of such an event as the taking of the capital of Austria。 “How was Vienna taken？ And its bridge and its famous fortifications； and Prince Auersperg？ We heard rumours that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna；” said he。
“Prince Auersperg is stationed on this side—our side—and is defending us； defending us very ineffectually； I imagine； but any way he is defending us。 But Vienna’s on the other side of the river。 No； the bridge has not been taken； and I hope it won’t be taken； because it is mined and orders have been given to blow it up。 If it were not so； we should have long ago been in the mountains of Bohemia； and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires。”
“But still that doesn’t mean that the campaign is over；” said Prince Andrey。
“But I believe that it is over。 And so do all the big…wigs here； though they don’t dare to say so。 It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign； that the matter will not be settled by your firing before D？renstein； not by gunpowder； but by those who invented it；” said Bilibin； repeating one of his mots； letting the creases run out of his forehead and pausing。 “The only question is what the meeting of the Emperor Alexander and the Prussian king may bring forth。 If Prussia enters the alliance； they will force Austria’s hand and there will be war。 If not； the only point will be to arrange where to draw up the articles of the new Campo Formio。”
“But what an extraordinary genius！” cried Prince Andrey suddenly； clenching his small hand and bringing it down on the table。 “And what luck the man has！”
“Buonaparte？” said Bilibin interrogatively； puckering up his forehead and so intimating that a mot was coming。 “Buonaparte？” he said； with special stress on the u。 “I think； though； that now when he is dictating laws to Austria from Sch？nbrunn； we must let him off the u。 I shall certainly adopt the innovation； and call him simply Bonaparte。”
“No； joking apart；” said Prince Andrey； “do you really believe the campaign is over？”
“I’ll tell you what I think。 Austria has been made a fool of； and she is not used to that。 And she’ll avenge it。 And she has been made a fool of because in the first place her provinces have been pillaged （they say the Holy Russian armament is plundering them cruelly）； her army has been destroyed； her capital has been taken； and all this for the sweet sake of his Sardinian Majesty。 And so between ourselves； my dear boy； my instinct tells me we are being deceived； my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and projects of peace； a secret peace；