第74章

第74章therestoftheinfantrypressedtogetherintoafunnelshapeattheentranceofthebridge,andhastilymarchedacrossit.atlastalltheage-onshadpassedover;thecrushwasless,andthelastbattalionweresteppingontothebridge.onlythehussarsofdenisov’ssquadronwereleftonthefurthersideoftheriverfacingtheenemy.theenemy,visibleinthedistancefromtheoppositemountain,couldnotyetbeseenfromthebridgebelow,as,fromthevalley,throughwhichtheriverflowed,thehorizonwasboundedbyrisinggroundnotmorethanhalfamileaway.infrontlayawasteplaindottedhereandtherewithhandfulsofourscoutingcossacks.suddenlyontheroad,whereitranuptherisinggroundopposite,troopscameintosightwearingbluetunicsandaccompaniedbyartillery.theywerethefrench.ascoutingpartyofcossackstrottedawaydownthehillside.thoughtheofficersandthemenofdenisov’ssquadrontriedtotalkofotherthings,andtolookinotherdirections,theyallthoughtcontinuallyofnothingelsebutwhatwasthereonthehillside,andkeptconstantlyglancingtowardsthedarkpatchestheysawcomingintosightonthesky-line,andrecognisedastheenemy’sforces.theweatherhadclearedagainaftermidday,andthesunshonebrilliantlyasitbegantogodownoverthedanubeandthedarkmountainsthatencircleit.theairwasstill,andfromthehillsidetherefloatedacrossfromtimetotimethesoundofbuglesandoftheshoutsoftheenemy.betweenthesquadronandtheenemytherewasnoonenowbutafewscoutingparties.anemptyplain,aboutsixhundredyardsacross,separatedthemfromthehostiletroops.theenemyhadceasedfiring,andthatmadeevenmorekeenlyfeltthesternmenaceofthatessible,unassailableborderlandthatwasthedividing-linebetweenthetwohostilearmies.

“onestepacrossthatline,thateststhelinedividingthelivingfromthedead,andunknownsufferingsanddeath.andwhatisthere？andwhoisthere？there,beyondthatfieldandthattreeandtheroofswiththesunlightonthem？nooneknows,andonelongstoknowanddreadscrossingthatline,andlongstocrossit,andoneknowsthatsoonerorlateronewillhavetocrossitandfindoutwhatthereisontheothersideoftheline,justasonemustinevitablyfindoutwhatisontheothersideofdeath.yetoneisstrongandwellandcheerfulandnervouslyexcited,andsurroundedbymenasstronginthesameirritableexcitement.”thatishoweveryman,evenifhedoesnotthink,feelsinthesightoftheenemy,andthatfeelinggivesapeculiarbrillianceanddelightfulkeennesstoone’simpressionsofallthattakesplaceatsuchmoments.

ontherisinggroundoccupiedbytheenemy,thererosethesmokeofashot,andacannonballflewwhizzingovertheheadsofthesquadronofhussars.theofficers,whohadbeenstandingtogether,scatteredindifferentdirections.thehussarsbegancarefullygettingtheirhorsesbackintoline.thewholesquadronsubsidedintosilence.allthemenwerelookingattheenemyinfrontandatthecommanderofthesquadron,expectinganordertobegiven.anothercannonballflewbythem,andathird.therewasnodoubtthattheywerefiringatthehussars.butthecannonballs,whizzingregularlyandrapidly,flewovertheheadsofthehussarsandstruckthegroundbeyondthem.thehussarsdidnotlookround,butateachsoundofaflyingball,asthoughatthewordofcommand,thewholesquadron,withtheirfacessoalike,throughalltheirdissimilarity,roseinthestirrups,holdingtheirbreath,astheballwhizzedby,thensankagain.thesoldiersdidnotturntheirheads,butglancedoutofthecornersoftheireyesatoneanother,curioustoseetheeffectontheircomrades.everyfacefromdenisovdowntothebuglershowedaboutthelipsandchinthesamelinesofconflictandnervousirritabilityandexcitement.thesergeantfrowned,lookingthesoldiersupanddown,asthoughthreateningthemwithpunishment.ensignmironovduckedatthepassingofeachcannonball.ontheleftflank,rostovonhisrook—ahandsomebeast,inspiteofhisunsoundlegs—hadthehappyairofaschoolboycalledupbeforealargeaudienceforanexaminationinwhichheisconfidentthathewilldistinguishhimself.helookedserenelyandbrightlyateveryone,asthoughcallinguponthemalltonoticehowunconcernedhewasunderfire.butintohisfacetootherecrept,againsthiswill,thatlineaboutthemouththatbetrayedsomenewandstrenuousfeeling.

“who’sbobbingupanddownthere？ensignmironov！notthething！lookatme！”roareddenisov,whocouldnotkeepstillinoneplace,butgallopedtoandfrobeforethesquadron.

thesnub-nosed,black,hairyfaceofvaskadenisov,andhislittle,batteredfigure,andthesinewy,short-fingeredhandinwhichheheldthehiltofhisnakedsword—hiswholefigurewasjustasitalwayswas,especiallyintheeveningafterhehaddrunkacoupleofbottles.hewasonlyratherredderinthefacethanusual,andtossingbackhisyhead,asbirdsdowhentheydrink,hislittlelegsmercilesslydrivingthespursintohisgoodhorsebedouin,hegallopedtotheotherflankofthesquadron,lookingasthoughhewerefallingbackwardsinthesaddle,andshoutedinahuskyvoicetothementolooktotheirpistols.herodeuptokirsten.thestaff-captainonhisstout,steadychargerrodeatawalkingpacetomeethim.thestaff-captain’sfacewithitslongwhiskerswasserious,asalways,buthiseyeslookedbrighterthanusual.

“well,”hesaidtodenisov,“itwon’tcometoafight.you’llsee,weshallretreatagain.”