At the governor’s house, Alpatitch found a great number of people, and saw Cossacks, and a travelling carriage belonging to the governor at the entrance. On the steps Yakov Alpatitch met two gentlemen, one of whom he knew. This gentleman, a former police-captain, was speaking with great heat.
“Well, this is no jesting matter,” he said. “Good luck for him who has only himself to think of. It’s bad enough for one alone, but when one has a family of thirteen and a whole property.…Things have come to such a pass that we shall all be ruined; what’s one to say of the government after that？…Ugh, I’d hang the brigands.…”
“Come, come, hush！” said the other.
“What do I care！ let him hear！ Why, we’re not dogs！” said the former police-captain, and looking round, he caught sight of Alpatitch.
“Ah, Yakov Alpatitch, how do you come here？”
“By command of his excellency to his honour the governor,” answered Alpatitch, lifting his head proudly and putting his hand into his bosom, as he always did when he mentioned the old prince.…“His honour was pleased to bid me inquire into the position of affairs,” he said.
“Well, you may as well know then,” cried the gentleman; “they have brought matters to such a pass that there are no carts to be got, nothing！…That’s it again, do you hear？” he said, pointing in the direction from which the sounds of firing came.
“They have brought us all to ruin…the brigands！” he declared again, and he went down the steps.
Alpatitch shook his head and went up. The waiting-room was full of merchants, women, and clerks, looking dumbly at one another. The door of the governor’s room opened, all of them got up and made a forward movement. A clerk ran out of the room, said something to a merchant, called a stout official with a cross on his neck to follow him, and vanished again, obviously trying to avoid all the looks and the questions addressed to him. Alpatitch moved forward, and the next time the same clerk emerged, he put his hand into his buttoned coat, and addressed him, handing him the two letters.
“To his honour the Baron Ash from the general-in-chief Prince Bolkonsky,” he boomed out with so much pomposity and significance that the clerk turned to him and took the letters. A few minutes afterwards Alpatitch was shown into the presence of the governor, who said to him hurriedly, “Inform the prince and the princess that I knew nothing about it. I acted on the highest instructions—here.…”
He gave Alpatitch a document.
“Still, as the prince is not well my advice to him is to go to Moscow. I’m setting off myself immediately. Tell them…”But the governor did not finish; a dusty and perspiring officer ran into the room and began saying something in French. A look of horror came into the governor’s face.
“You can go,” he said, nodding to Alpatitch, and he put some questions to the officer. Eager, panic-stricken, helpless glances were turned upon Alpatitch when he came out of the governor’s room. Alpatitch could not help listening now to firing, which seemed to come closer and to be getting hotter, as he hurried back to the inn. The document the governor had given to Alpatitch ran as follows：
“I guarantee that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger, and it is improbable that it should be threatened in any way. I myself from one side, and Prince Bagration from the other, will effect a junction before Smolensk on the 22nd instant, and both armies will proceed with their joint forces to defend their compatriots of the province under your government, till their efforts beat back the enemies of our country, or till their gallant ranks are cut down to the last warrior. You will see from this that you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, as they are defended by two such valiant armies and can be confident of their victory.
（“By order of Barclay de Tolly to the civil governor of Smolensk. Baron Ash. 1812.”）
Crowds of people were moving uneasily about the streets. Waggons, loaded up with household crockery, chairs, and cupboards, were constantly emerging from the gates of houses, and moving along the streets. Carts were standing at the entrance of the house next to Ferapontov’s, and women were wailing and exchanging good-byes. The yard dog was frisking about the horses, barking.
Alpatitch’s step was more hurried than usual as he entered the yard, and went straight under the shed to his horses and cart. The coachman was asleep; he waked him up, told him to put the horses in, and went into the outer room of the house. In the private room of the family, he heard the wailing of children, the heartrending sobs of a woman, and the furious, husky shouting of Ferapontov. The cook came fluttering into the outer room like a frightened hen, just as Alpatitch walked in.
“He’s beating her to death—beating the mistress！…He’s beaten her so, thrashed her so！…”
“What for？” asked Alpatitch.
“She kept begging to go away. A woman’s way！ Take me away, says she; don’t bring me to ruin with all my little children; folks are all gone, says she, what are we about？ So he fell to beating her…beating and thrashing her！”
Alpatitch nodded his head, apparently in approval at those words; and not caring to hear more he went towards the door on the opposite side leading to the room in which his purchases had been left.
“Wretch, villain,” screamed a thin, pale woman, bursting out at that moment with a child in her arms and her kerchief torn off her head. She ran down the steps into the yard. Ferapontov was going after her, but seeing Alpatitch, he pulled down his waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned and followed Alpatitch into the room.
“Do you want to be getting off already？” he asked. Without answering the question or looking round at him, Alpatitch collected his purchases and asked how much he owed him.
“We’ll reckon up！ Been at the governor’s, eh？” asked Ferapontov. “What did you hear？”
Alpatitch replied that the governor had told him nothing definite.