“That Prince Andrey should know that she was in the power of the French！ That she， the daughter of Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky， should stoop to ask General Rameau to grant her his protection， and should take advantage of his good offices.” The idea appalled her， made her shudder and turn crimson. She felt a rush of vindictive wrath and pride of which she had had no conception. All the bitterness， and still more the humiliation of her position rose vividly to her imagination. “They， the French， would take up their quarters in the house： M. le Général Rameau would occupy Prince Andrey’s study； would amuse himself by looking through and reading his letters and papers； Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honours of Bogutcharovo； I should be given a room as a favour； the soldiers would break open my father’s newly dug grave to take his crosses and decorations； they would tell me of their victories over the Russians， would affect hypocritical sympathy with my grief， …” thought Princess Marya， thinking not the thoughts natural to her， but feeling it a duty to think as her father and brother would have done. To her personally it did not matter where she stayed and what happened to her， but， at the same time， she felt herself the representative of her dead father and Prince Andrey. Unconsciously she thought their thoughts and felt their feelings. What they would have said， what they would have done now， she felt it incumbent upon her to do. She went into Prince Andrey’s study， and trying to enter completely into his ideas， thought over her situation.
The exigencies of life， which she had regarded as of no consequence since her father’s death， all at once rose up about Princess Marya with a force she had known nothing of before， and swept her away with them.
Flushed and excited she walked about the room， sending first for Alpatitch， then for Mihail Ivanitch， then for Tihon， then for Dron. Dunyasha， the old nurse， and the maids could not tell her how far Mademoiselle Bourienne’s statements had been correct. Alpatitch was not in the house； he had gone to the police authorities. Mihail Ivanitch， the architect， came with sleepy eyes on being sent for， but could tell Princess Marya nothing. With the same smile of acquiescence with which he had been accustomed during the course of fifteen years to meet the old prince’s remarks without committing himself， he now met the princess’s questions， so that there was no getting any definite answer out of him. The old valet， Tihon， whose wan and sunken face wore the stamp of inconsolable grief， answered “Yes， princess，” to all Princess Marya’s questions， and could scarcely restrain his sobs as he looked at her.
Lastly， the village elder， Dron， came into the room， and bowing low to the princess， took up his position near the doorway.
Princess Marya walked up and down the room and stood still facing him.
“Dronushka，” she said， seeing in him a staunch friend， the Dronushka who had every year brought back from the fair at Vyazma the same gingerbreads she connected with him， and had presented them to her with the same smile， “Dronushka， now， after our misfortune，” … she began， and paused， unable to proceed.
“We are all in God’s hands，” he said， with a sigh.
They were silent.
“Dronushka， Alpatitch has gone off somewhere， I have no one to turn to. Is it true， as I’m told， that it is impossible for me to go away？”
“Why shouldn’t you go away， your excellency？ You can go，” said Dron.
“I have been told there is danger from the enemy. My good friend， I can do nothing， I know nothing about it， I have nobody. I want to set off without fail to-night or to-morrow morning early.”
Dron did not speak. He looked up from under his brows at Princess Marya.
“There are no horses，” he said. “I have told Yakov Alpatitch so already.”
“How is that？” said the princess.
“It’s all the visitation of the Lord，” said Dron. “Some horses have been carried off for the troops， and some are dead； it’s a bad year， it is. If only we don’t die of hunger ourselves， let alone feeding the horses！ Here they’ve been three days without a bit of bread. There’s nothing， they have been plundered to the last bit.”
Princess Marya listened attentively to what he said to her.
“The peasants have been plundered？ They have no bread？” she asked.
“They are dying of hunger，” said Dron； “no use talking of horses and carts.”
“But why didn’t you say so， Dronushka？ Can’t they be helped？ I’ll do everything I can …” It was strange to Princess Marya to think that at such a moment， when her heart was overflowing with such a sorrow， there could be rich people and poor， and that the rich could possibly not help the poor. She vaguely knew that there was a store of “seignorial corn，” and that it was sometimes given to the peasants. She knew， too， that neither her brother nor her father would refuse the peasants in their need； she was only afraid of ****** some mistake in the wording of the order for this distribution. She was glad that she had an excuse for doing something in which she could， without scruple， forget her own grief. She began to question Dronushka about the peasants’ needs， and to ask whether there was a “seignorial store” at Bogutcharovo.
“I suppose we have a store of wheat of my brother’s？” she asked.
“The wheat is all untouched，” Dron declared with pride. “The prince gave me no orders about selling it.”
“Give it to the peasants， give them all they need； I give you leave in my brother’s name，” said Princess Marya.
Dron heaved a deep sigh and made no answer.
“You distribute the corn among them， if it will be enough for them. Distribute it all. I give you the order in my brother’s name； and tell them， what’s ours is theirs. We would grudge nothing for them. Tell them so.”
Dron watched the princess intently all the while she was speaking.
“Discharge me， ma’am， for God’s sake， bid them take the keys from me，” said he. “I have served twenty-three years， and done no wrong； discharge me， for God’s sake.”
Princess Marya had no notion what he wanted of her and why he asked her to discharge him. She answered that she had never doubted his fidelity， and that she was ready to do everything for him and for the peasants.