第158章

第158章nearthevillageofpratzenrostovhadbeentoldtolookforkutuzovandtheemperor.buttheretheywerenot,norwasthereasingleofficertobefoundincommand,nothingbutdisorderlycrowdsoftroopsofdifferentsorts.heurgedonhiswearyhorsetohastenthroughthisrabble,butthefurtherhewentthemoredisorderlythecrowdsbecame.thehighroadalongwhichherode,wasthrongedwithcarriages,withvehiclesofallsorts,andaustrianandrussiansoldiersofeverykind,woundedandunwounded.itwasalluproarandconfusedbustleunderthesinisterwhizoftheflyingcannonballsfromthefrenchbatteriesstationedontheheightsofpratzen.

“where’stheemperor？where’skutuzov？”rostovkeptaskingofeveryonehecouldstop,andfromnoonecouldhegetananswer.

atlastclutchingasoldierbythecollar,heforcedhimtoanswerhim.

“aye！brother！they’veallboltedlongago！”thesoldiersaidtorostov,laughingforsomereasonashepulledhimselfaway.lettinggothatsoldier,whomust,hethought,bedrunk,rostovstoppedthehorseofagroomorpostillionofsomepersonageofconsequence,andbegantocross-questionhim.thegroominformedrostovthatanhourbeforethetsarhadbeendrivenatfullspeedinacarriagealongthisveryroad,andthatthetsarwasdangerouslywounded.

“itcan’tbe,”saidrostov;“probablysomeoneelse.”

“isawhimmyself,”saidthegroomwithaself-satisfiedsmirk;“it’shightimeishouldknowtheemperor,ishouldthink,afterthemanytimesi’veseenhiminpetersburg;isawhimasitmightbehere.pale,deadlypale,sittinginthecarriage.thewaytheydrovethefourravenhorses！mygoodness,didn’ttheydashbyus！itwouldbestrange,ishouldthink,ifididn’tknowthetsar’shorsesandilyaivanitch;why,ilyaneverdrivesanyoneelsebutthetsar.”

rostovletgoofthehorseandwouldhavegoneon.awoundedofficerpassingbyaddressedhim.“why,whoisityouwant？”askedtheofficer,“thecommander-in-chief？oh,hewaskilledbyacannonball,struckinthebreastbeforeourregiment.”

“notkilled—wounded,”anotherofficercorrectedhim.

“who？kutuzov？”askedrostov.

“notkutuzov,butwhat’shisname—well,it’sallthesame,therearenotmanyleftalive.gothatway,overtheretothatvillage,allthecommandingofficersarethere,”saidtheofficer,pointingtothevillageofgostieradeck,andhewalkedon.

rostovrodeonatawalkingpace,notknowingtowhomandwithwhatobjecthewasgoingnow.thetsarwaswounded,thebattlewaslost.therewasnorefusingtobelieveinitnow.rostovrodeinthedirectionwhichhadbeenpointedouttohim,andsawinthedistanceturretsandachurch.whathadhetohastenfornow？whatwashetosaynowtothetsarortokutuzov,eveniftheywerealiveandnotwounded？

“goalongthisroad,yourhonour,thatwayyouwillbekilledinatrice！”asoldiershoutedtohim.“you’llbekilledthatway！”

“oh！whatnonsense！”saidanother.“whereishetogo？thatway’snearest.”rostovpondered,androdeoffpreciselyinthedirectioninwhichhehadbeentoldhewouldbekilled.

“now,nothingmatters;iftheemperoriswounded,canitryandsavemyself？”hethought.herodeintotheregionwheremoremenhadbeenkilledthananywhere,infleeingfrompratzen.thefrenchhadnotyettakenthatregion,thoughtherussians—thosewhowereslightlywoundedorunhurt—hadlongabandonedit.alloverthefield,likeridgesofdungonwell-keptplough-land,laytheheapsofdeadandwounded,adozenorfifteenbodiestoeverythreeacres.thewoundedwerecrawlingtwoorthreetogether,andtheirshrieksandgroanshadapainfulandsometimesaffectedsound,itseemedtorostov.rostovputhishorsetoatrottoavoidthesightofallthosesufferingpeople,andhefeltafraid.hewasafraidoflosingnothislife,buthispluck,whichheneededsomuch,whichheknewwouldnotstandthesightofthoselucklesswretches.thefrenchhadceasedfiringatthisfieldthatwasdottedoverwithdeadandwounded,becausethereseemednoonelivinguponit,butseeinganadjutanttrottingacrossit,theyturnedacannonuponhimandshotoffseveralcannonballs.thesenseofthosewhizzing,fearfulsounds,andofthedeadbodiesallroundhimmeltedintoasingleimpressionofhorrorandpityforhimselfinrostov’sheart.hethoughtofhismother’slastletter.“whatwouldshebefeelingnow,”hethought,“ifshecouldseemeherenowonthisfieldwithcannonsaimedatme？”