In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre is summoned to the commander in chief. When he enters the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his face, is rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man is saying something, but when Pierre enters he stops speaking and goes out. Ah, how do you do, great warrior? Rostopchin says as soon as they are alone. We have heard of your prowess. But that is not the point. Between ourselves, do you belong to the Masons? he goes on severely, as though there were something wrong about it which he nevertheless intends to pardon. Pierre remains silent. Rostopchin is well informed. There are Masons and Masons, and he hopes Pierre is not one of those who on pretence of saving mankind wish to ruin Russia. Yes, I am a Mason, Pierre replies. There, you see. Messrs Speranski and Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. Mr Klyucharev has been treated in the same way, and so have others who on the plea of building up the temple of Solomon have tried to destroy the temple of their fatherland. There are reasons for this, and Rostopchin could not have exiled the Postmaster had he not been a harmful person. It has now come to his knowledge that Pierre lent Klyucharev his carriage for his removal from town, and even accepted papers from him for safe custody. Rostopchin likes Pierre and does not wish him any harm, and, as Pierre is only half his age, he advises him, as a father would, to cease all communication with men of that stamp and to leave here as soon as possible.
But what did Klyucharev do wrong? Pierre asks. That is for me to know, but not for you to ask, Rostopchin shouts. If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not proved that he did so, Pierre says without looking at him, and Vereshchagin. There we are! Rostopchin shouts louder than before, frowning suddenly. Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who will be punished as he deserves, said with the vindictive heat with which people speak when recalling an insult. But I did not summon you to discuss my actions, but to give you advice, or an order if you prefer it. Leave the town and break off all communication with such men as Klyucharev. I will knock the nonsense out of anybody. Then, probably realising that he is shouting at Bezukhov who so far is not guilty of anything, he adds, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly manner, that they are on the eve of a public disaster and he has not time to be polite to everybody. His head is sometimes in a whirl. Well, what are you doing personally? Why, nothing, Pierre answers without raising his eyes or changing the thoughtful expression of his face. The count frowns. A word of friendly advice: be off as soon as you can. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-by, my dear fellow. Oh, by the by, he shouts through the doorway after Pierre, is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus? Pierre does not answer and leaves more sullen and angry than he has ever before shown himself.
When he reaches home it is already getting dark. Some eight people have come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, the colonel of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various petitioners. They all have business with Pierre and want decisions from him. He does not understand and is not interested in any of these questions and only answers them in order to get rid of these people. When left alone at last he opens and reads his wife's letter. They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed, that old man. Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary. The meaning of all. One must harness. My wife is getting married. One must forget and understand. He goes to his bed, throws himself on it without undressing, and immediately falls asleep. When he awakes next morning the major-domo comes to inform him that a special messenger, a police officer, has come from Count Rostopchin to know whether Count Bezukhov has left or is leaving the town. A dozen persons who have business with Pierre are awaiting him in the drawing room. Pierre dresses hurriedly and, instead of going to see them, goes to the back porch and out through the gate. From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they make, sees Pierre again or knows where he is.
