第622章

第622章therainwasover,butamistwasfallinganddropsofwaterdrippedfromthebranchesofthetrees.denisov,theesaul,andpetya,insilence,followedthepeasantinthepointedcap,who,steppinglightlyandnoiselesslyinhisbastshoesoverrootsandwetleaves,ledthemtotheedgeofthewood.

comingoutontheroad,thepeasantpaused,lookedabouthim,andturnedtowardathinscreenoftrees.hestoodstillatabigoak,stillcoveredwithleaves,andbeckonedmysteriouslytothem.

denisovandpetyarodeuptohim.fromtheplacewherethepeasantwasstandingthefrenchcouldbeseen.justbeyondthewoodafieldofspringcornransharplydownhill.ontheright,acrossasteepravine,couldbeseenalittlevillageandamanor-housewiththeroofsbrokendown.inthatvillageandinthehouseandalloverthehighgroundinthegarden,bythewellsandthepond,andallalongtheroaduphillfromthebridgetothevillage,notmorethanfivehundredyardsaway,crowdsofmencouldbeseenintheshiftingmist.theycoulddistinctlyheartheirforeigncriesatthehorsespullingtheageuphillandtheircallstooneanother.

“givemetheprisonerhere,”saiddenisov,inalowvoice,nevertakinghiseyesoffthefrench.

acossackgotoffhishorse,liftedtheboydown,andcamewithhimtodenisov.denisov,pointingtothefrench,askedtheboywhattroopstheywere.theboy,thrustinghischilledhandsintohispocketsandraisinghiseyebrows,lookedindismayatdenisov,andinspiteofhisunmistakabledesiretotellallheknew,hewasconfusedinhisanswers,andmerelyrepeateddenisov’squestions.denisov,frowning,turnedawayfromhim,andaddressingtheesaul,toldhimhisownviewsonthematter.

petya,turninghisheadrapidly,lookedfromthedrummertodenisov,andfromtheesaultothefrenchinthevillageandontheroad,tryingnottomissanythingofimportance.

“whetherdolohovcomesornot,wemusttakethem.…eh？”saiddenisov,hiseyessparklingmerrily.

“itisaconvenientspot,”saidtheesaul.

“wewillsendtheinfantrydownbelow,bythemarshes,”denisovwenton.“theywillcreepuptothegarden;youdashdownwiththecossacksfromthere”—denisovpointedtothewoodbeyondthevillage—“andifromherewithmyhussars.andatashot…”

“itwon’tdotogobythehollow;it’sabog,”saidtheesaul.“thehorseswillsinkin,youmustskirtroundmoretotheleft.…”

whiletheyweretalkinginundertones,therewasthecrackofashotandapuffofwhitesmokeinthehollowbelownearthepond,andthevoicesofhundredsoffrenchmenhalfwayupthehillroseinaringingshout,asthoughinmerrychorus.atthefirstminutebothdenisovandtheesauldartedback.theyweresonearthattheyfanciedtheywerethecauseofthatshotandthoseshouts.buttheyhadnothingtodowiththem.amaninsomethingredwasrunningthroughthemarshesbelow.thefrenchwereevidentlyfiringandshoutingathim.

“why,it’sourtihon,”saidtheesaul.

“it’she！it’she！”

“therogue,”saiddenisov.

“he’llgetaway！”saidtheesaul,screwinguphiseyes.

themantheycalledtihon,runninguptothelittleriver,splashedintoit,sothatthewaterspurteduproundhim,anddisappearingforaninstant,scrambledoutonallfours,lookingdarkfromthewater,andranon.thefrench,whohadbeenpursuinghim,stopped.

“well,he’sasmartfellow,”saidtheesaul.

“thebeast,”saiddenisov,withthesameexpressionofvexation.“andwhathashebeenaboutallthistime？”

“whoishe？”askedpetya.

“it’sourscout.isenthimtocatcha‘tongue’forus.”

“ah,tobesure,”saidpetya,noddingatdenisov’sfirstword,asthoughheknewallaboutit,thoughhedidnotunderstandaword.