第139章

第139章atdawnonthe16th,denisov’ssquadron,inwhichnikolayrostovwasserving,andwhichformedpartofprincebagration’sdetachment,movedonfromitshaltingplaceforthenight—toadvanceintoaction,aswassaid.afteraboutamile’smarch,intherearofothercolumns,itwasbroughttoastandstillonthehigh-road.rostovsawthecossacks,thefirstandsecondsquadronsofhussars,andtheinfantrybattalionswiththeartillerypasshimandmarchonahead;healsosawthegeneralsbagrationanddolgorukovridebywiththeiradjutants.allthepanichehadfelt,asbefore,attheprospectofbattle,alltheinnerconflictbymeansofwhichhehadovercomethatpanic,allhisdreamsofdistinguishinghimselfintruehussarstyleinthisbattle—allwerefornothing.hissquadronwasheldbackinreserve,andnikolayrostovspentatediousandwretchedday.aboutnineo’clockinthemorningheheardfiringaheadofhim,andshoutsofhurrah,sawthewoundedbeingbroughtback（therewerenotmanyofthem）,andfinallysawawholedetachmentoffrenchcavalrybeingbroughtawayinthemidstofacompanyofcossacks.obviouslytheactionwasover,andtheactionhad,obviously,beenasmallone,butessful.thesoldiersandofficersastheycamebackweretalkingofabrilliantvictory,ofthetakingofthetownofvishau,andawholefrenchsquadrontakenprisoners.thedaywasbrightandsunnyafterasharpfrostatnight,andthecheerfulbrightnessoftheautumndaywasinkeepingwiththenewsofvictory,whichwastoldnotonlybytheaccountsofthosewhohadtakenpartinit,butbythejoyfulexpressionofsoldiers,officers,generals,andadjutants,whorodetoandfrobyrostov.allthegreaterwasthepanginnikolay’sheartthatheshouldhavesufferedthedreadthatgoesbeforethebattlefornothing,andhavespentthathappydayininactivity.

“rostov,comehere,let’sdrink‘begone,dullcare！’”shouteddenisov,sittingattheroadsidebeforeabottleandsomeedibles.theofficersgatheredinaring,eatingandtalking,rounddenisov’swine-case.

“herethey’rebringinganother！”saidoneoftheofficers,pointingtoafrenchprisoner,adragoon,whowasbeingledonfootbytwocossacks.oneofthemwasleadingbythebridletheprisoner’shorse,atallandbeautifulfrenchbeast.

“sellthehorse？”denisovcalledtothecossacks.

“ifyouwill,yourhonour.”

theofficersgotupandstoodroundthecossacksandtheprisoner.thefrenchdragoonwasayoungfellow,analsatianwhospokefrenchwithagermanaccent.hewasbreathlesswithexcitement,hisfacewasred,andhearingfrenchspokenhebeganquicklyspeakingtotheofficers,turningfromonetoanother.hesaidthattheywouldn’thavetakenhim,thatitwasn’thisfaulthewastaken,butthefaultofthecorporal,whohadsenthimtogetthehorsecloths,thathehadtoldhimtherussianswerethere.andateverywordheadded：“butdon’tletanybodyhurtmylittlehorse,”andstrokedhishorse.itwasevidentthathedidnotquitegraspwherehewas.atonemomenthewasexcusinghimselfforhavingbeentakenprisoner,atthenext,imagininghimselfbeforehissuperiorofficers,hewastryingtoprovehissoldierlydisciplineandzealfortheservice.hebroughtwithhiminallitsfreshnessintoourrearguardtheatmosphereofthefrencharmy,soalientous.

thecossackssoldthehorsefortwogoldpieces,androstov,beingtherichestoftheofficerssincehehadreceivedmoneyfromhome,boughtit.

“begoodtothelittlehorse！”thealsatiansaidwithsimple-heartedgood-naturetorostov,whenthehorsewashandedtothehussar.

rostovsmiling,soothedthedragoon,andgavehimmoney.

“alley！alley！”saidthecossack,touchingtheprisoner’sarmtomakehimgoon.

“theemperor！theemperor！”wassuddenlyheardamongthehussars.everythingwasbustleandhurry,androstovsawbehindthemontheroadseveralhorsemenridingupwithwhiteplumesintheirhats.inasinglemomentallwereintheirplacesandeagerlyexpectant.

rostovhadnomemoryandnoconsciousnessofhowherantohispostandgotonhishorse.instantlyhisregretatnottakingpartinthebattle,hishumdrummoodamongthemenhesaweveryday—allwasgone;instantlyallthoughtofselfhadvanished.hewasentirelyabsorbedinthefeelingofhappinessatthetsar’sbeingnear.hisnearnessalonemadeuptohimbyitself,hefelt,forthelossofthewholeday.hewashappy,asaloverishappywhenthemomentofthelonged-formeetinghascome.notdaringtolookroundfromthefrontline,byanecstaticinstinctwithoutlookinground,hefelthisapproach.andhefeltitnotonlyfromthesoundofthetrampinghoofsoftheapproachingcavalcade,hefeltitbecauseasthetsarcamenearereverythinggrewbrighter,morejoyfulandsignificant,andmorefestive.nearerandnearermovedthissun,asheseemedtorostov,sheddingaroundhimraysofmildandmajesticlight,andnowhefelthimselfenfoldedinthatradiance,heheardhisvoice—thatvoicecaressing,calm,majestic,andyetsosimple.adeathlikesilencehadcome—asseemedtorostovfitting—andinthatsilenceheheardthesoundofthetsar’svoice.

“thepavlogradhussars？”hewassayinginterrogatively

“thereserve,sire,”repliedavoice—suchahumanvoice,afterthesuperhumanvoicethathadsaid：“leshussardsdepavlograd？”