BOOK NINE: 1812
22. CHAPTER XXII
 (continued)
The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or
 bald seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of
 whom Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or
 playing boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd
 advanced to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of
 the chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two
 together. Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to
 say and hastened to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked
 their brains to find some thought and hastened to utter it. The old
 magnates, whom Pierre knew, sat and turned to look first at one and
 then at another, and their faces for the most part only expressed
 the fact that they found it very hot. Pierre, however, felt excited,
 and the general desire to show that they were ready to go to all
 lengths- which found expression in the tones and looks more than in
 the substance of the speeches- infected him too. He did not renounce
 his opinions, but felt himself in some way to blame and wished to
 justify himself. 
"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices
 when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the
 other voices. 
One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention
 was immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the
 table. 
"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!"
 shouted one man. 
"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...."
 "Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..." 
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