All Denisov had said was practical and sensible. What the general was saying was even more practical and sensible, but apparently Kutuzov despised both knowledge and intellect, and knew of something else that would settle things—something different, quite apart from intellect and knowledge. Prince Andrey watched the commander-in-chief’s face attentively, and the only expression he could detect in it was an expression of boredom, of curiosity to know the meaning of the feminine whispering at the door, and of a desire to observe the proprieties. It was obvious that Kutuzov despised intellect and learning, and even the patriotic feeling Denisov had shown; but he did not despise them through intellect, nor through sentiment, nor through learning (for he made no effort to display anything of the kind), he despised them through something else—through his old age, through his experience of life. The only instruction of his own that Kutuzov inserted in the report related to acts of marauding by Russian troops. The general, at the end of the report, presented his highness a document for signature relating to a petition for damages from a landowner for the cutting of his oats by certain officers.

Kutuzov smacked his lips together and shook his head, as he listened to the matter.

“Into the stove … into the fire with it! And I tell you once for all, my dear fellow,” he said, “all such things put into the fire. Let them cut the corn and burn the wood to their heart’s content. It’s not by my orders and it’s not with my permission, but I can’t pursue the matter. It can’t be helped. You can’t hew down trees without the chips flying.” He glanced once more at the paper. “Oh, this German preciseness,” he commented, shaking his head.