Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew supposed.
After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be called up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the commander in chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at Bald Hills to the last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the commander in chief's discretion to take measures or not for the defense of Bald Hills, where one of Russia's oldest generals would be captured or killed, and he announced to his household that he would remain at Bald Hills.
But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the departure of the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to Bogucharovo and thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her father's feverish and sleepless activity after his previous apathy, could not bring herself to leave him alone and for the first time in her life ventured to disobey him. She refused to go away and her father's fury broke over her in a terrible storm. He repeated every injustice he had ever inflicted on her. Trying to convict her, he told her she had worn him out, had caused his quarrel with his son, had harbored nasty suspicions of him, making it the object of her life to poison his existence, and he drove her from his study telling her that if she did not go away it was all the same to him. He declared that he did not wish to remember her existence and warned her not to dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as she had feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her not to let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof that in the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and had not gone away.
The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned his full uniform and prepared to visit the commander in chief. His caleche was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the house in his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden to review his armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window listening to his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly several men came running up the avenue with frightened faces.
Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, and into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were moving toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by the armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue, could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his helpless lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out what he wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on the very couch he had so feared of late.
The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said that the prince had had seizure a paralyzing his right side.
It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying him.
By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little prince had already left for Moscow.
For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the new house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same state, getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay like a distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and lips twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood what was going on around him or not. One thing was certain- that he was suffering and wished to say something. But what it was, no one could tell: it might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, or it might relate to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns.
The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was due to physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell her something, and the fact that her presence always increased his restlessness confirmed her opinion.
He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not do to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end did come, the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and day, hardly sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, often watched him not with hope of finding signs of improvement but wishing to find symptoms of the approach of the end.
Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that since her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed with him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires and hopes that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. Thoughts that had not entered her mind for years- thoughts of a life free from the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and of family happiness- floated continually in her imagination like temptations of the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions continually recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, after that. These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew it. She knew that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she tried to pray. She assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, repeated the words of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt that a different world had now taken possession of her- the life of a world of strenuous and free activity, quite opposed to the spiritual world in which till now she had been confined and in which her greatest comfort had been prayer. She could not pray, could not weep, and worldly cares took possession of her.
It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the approach of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten miles from Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French marauders.
The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary to persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of the rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, saying that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that French proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could not answer for the consequences.
The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of preparation and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, occupied her all day. She spent the night of the fourteenth as usual, without undressing, in the room next to the one where the prince lay. Several times, waking up, she heard his groans and muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps of Tikhon and the doctor when they turned him over. Several times she listened at the door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were louder than usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not sleep and several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter but not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to him. She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look she sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in during the night at an unusual hour would irritate him.
But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of losing him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and act of his found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid these memories temptations of the devil would surge into her imagination: thoughts of how things would be after his death, and how her new, liberated life would be ordered. But she drove these thoughts away with disgust. Toward morning he became quiet and she fell asleep.
She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed her clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. On waking she listened to what was going on behind the door and, hearing him groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were still the same.
"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" she cried with a feeling of loathing for herself.
She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being packed into the vehicles.
It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, still horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her thoughts before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and went out to her.
"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. One can make out something of what he is saying. His head is clearer. Come in, he is asking for you..."
Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew pale and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, talk to him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was overflowing with those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment of joy and terror.
"Come," said the doctor.
Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He was lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with their knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His face seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown smaller. Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand pressed hers so that she understood that he had long been waiting for her to come. He twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered angrily.
She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. When she changed her position so that his left eye could see her face he calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. Then his lips and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, gazing timidly and imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might not understand.
Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said something, repeating the same words several times. She could not understand them, but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly repeated the words he uttered.
"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times.
It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor thought he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are you afraid?" The prince shook his head, again repeated the same sounds.
"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary.
He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to find the right place for it.
"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much more clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being understood.
Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide her sobs and tears.
He moved his hand over her hair.
"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out.
"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid to come in."
He pressed her hand.
"Weren't you asleep?"
"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head.
Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself as he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed to move with difficulty.
"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what he had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a tender caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why didn't you come in?"
"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary.
He was silent awhile.
"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... thank you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow from his eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, timid expression of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke.
He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least it seemed to Princess Mary.
"I have a letter from him," she replied.
He glanced at her with timid surprise.
"Where is he?"
"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk."
He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in answer to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood and remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes.
"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've destroyed her."
And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Mary could no longer restrain herself and wept while she gazed at his face.
Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, and Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears.
Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them could understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and repeated it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in the mood in which he had just been speaking. She thought he was speaking of Russia, or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, or of his own death, and so she could not guess his words.
"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said.
Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the doctor taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and trying to persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left the room the prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and then he had a second and final stroke.
Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot and sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel nothing, except passionate love for her father, love such as she thought she had never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing into the garden and as far as the pond, along the avenues of young lime trees Prince Andrew had planted.
"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? What use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary murmured, pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her hands to her bosom which heaved with convulsive sobs.
When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her again to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne- who had remained at Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it- coming toward her with a stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, who had come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for her prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding him; she led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then, excusing herself, she went to the door of the old prince's room. The doctor came out with an agitated face and said she could not enter.
"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!"
She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot of the slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know how long she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a woman's footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha her maid, who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped suddenly as if in alarm on seeing her mistress.
"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking voice.
"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess hurriedly, not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and trying to avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house.
"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," said the Marshal, meeting her at the house door.
"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him.
The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping me? I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she thought. She opened the door and the bright daylight in that previously darkened room startled her. In the room were her nurse and other women. They all drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the bed as before, but the stern expression of his quiet face made Princess Mary stop short on the threshold.
"No, he's not dead- it's impossible!" she told herself and approached him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed her lips to his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force of the tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly and was replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before her. "No, he is no more! He is not, but here where he was is something unfamiliar and hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent mystery!" And hiding her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into the arms of the doctor, who held her up.
In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had been the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth should not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied together the legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed him in uniform with his decorations and placed his shriveled little body on a table. Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but it all got done as if of its own accord. Toward night candles were burning round his coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was strewn with sprays of juniper, a printed band was tucked in under his shriveled head, and in a corner of the room sat a chanter reading the psalms.
Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round the coffin- the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women- and all with fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and kissed the old prince's cold and stiffened hand.
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Book One: 1805 - Chapter XVIII
Book One: 1805 - Chapter XXIII
Book One: 1805 - Chapter XXVII
Book One: 1805 - Chapter XXVIII
Book Two: 1805 - Chapter XVIII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter III
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter VII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter VIII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XIII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XIV
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XVI
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XVII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XVIII
Book Three: 1805 - Chapter XIX
Book Four: 1806 - Chapter VIII
Book Four: 1806 - Chapter XIII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter I
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter II
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter III
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter IV
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter V
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter VI
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter VII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter VIII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter IX
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter X
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XI
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XIII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XIV
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XV
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XVI
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XVII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XVIII
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XIX
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XX
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XXI
Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XXII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter II
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter III
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter IV
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter VI
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter VII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter VIII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter IX
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XI
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XIII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XIV
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XV
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XVI
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XVII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XVIII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XIX
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XX
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXI
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXIII
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXIV
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXV
Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XXVI
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter I
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter II
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter III
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter IV
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter V
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter VI
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter VII
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter VIII
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter IX
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter X
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter XI
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter XII
Book Seven: 1810-11 - Chapter XIII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter I
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter II
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter III
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter IV
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter V
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter VI
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter VII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter VIII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter IX
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter X
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XI
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIV
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XV
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XVI
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XVII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XVIII
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIX
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XX
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XXI
Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XXII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter VIII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XIII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XVII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XVIII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XXII
Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XXIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XVIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXVII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXVIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXIV
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXVI
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXVII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXVIII
Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXIX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter II
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter III
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter IV
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter VI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter VII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter VIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter IX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XIV
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XV
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XVI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XVII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XVIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XIX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXIV
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXV
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXVI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXVII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXVIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXIX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXX
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXXI
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXXII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXXIII
Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XXXIV
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter II
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter III
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter IV
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter VI
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter VII
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter VIII
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter IX
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XI
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XII
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XIII
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XIV
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XV
Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XVI
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter I
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter II
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter III
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter IV
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter V
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter VI
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter VII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter VIII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter IX
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter X
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XI
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XIII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XIV
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XV
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XVI
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XVII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XVIII
Book Thirteen: 1812 - Chapter XIX
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter I
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter II
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter III
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter IV
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter V
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter VI
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter VII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter VIII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter IX
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter X
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XI
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XIII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XIV
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XV
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XVI
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XVII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XVIII
Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter XIX
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter I
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter II
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter III
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter IV
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter V
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter VI
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter VII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter VIII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter IX
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter X
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XI
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XIII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XIV
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XV
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XVI
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XVII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XVIII
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XIX
Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter XX
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter I
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter II
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter III
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter IV
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter V
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VI
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VII
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VIII
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter IX
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter X
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XI
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XII
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XIII
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XIV
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XV
First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XVI
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter I
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter II
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter III
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter IV
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter V
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VI
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VII
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter VIII
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter IX
Second Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter X