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Yazar: Leo Tolstoy

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"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he
jerked away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!...
Consider, Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!...
Moreau would have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand;
but he had the Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It
would have puzzled the devil himself! When you get there you'll
find out what those Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't
manage them so what chance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy,"
he continued, "you and your generals won't get on against
Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the French, so that birds of a
feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen, has been sent to
New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau," he said,
alluding to the invitation made that year to Moreau to enter the
Russian service.... "Wonderful!... Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs,
and Orlovs Germans? No, lad, either you fellows have all lost
your wits, or I have outlived mine.

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