BOOK NINE: 1812
22. CHAPTER XXII
 (continued)
Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that
 his words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible
 than the sound of his opponent's voice. 
Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval;
 several persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end
 of a phrase, said: 
"That's right, quite right! Just so!" 
Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his
 serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in
 order to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many
 voices shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had
 not time to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased,
 dispersed, re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the
 largest hall and to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to
 speak unsuccessful, but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and
 people turned away from him as from a common enemy. This happened
 not because they were displeased by the substance of his speech, which
 had even been forgotten after the many subsequent speeches, but to
 animate it the crowd needed a tangible object to love and a tangible
 object to hate. Pierre became the latter. Many other orators spoke
 after the excited nobleman, and all in the same tone. Many spoke
 eloquently and with originality. 
Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized
 (cries of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that
 "hell must be repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child
 smiling at lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be
 that child." 
"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back
 rows of the crowd. 
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