Chapter 8 chapter eight

The rest of the infantry huddled at the head of the bridge in a funnel shape and hurried across the bridge.At last the wagons passed by, and the crowd was not too heavy, and the last battalion also walked to the bridge.The hussars of Denisov's cavalry company had to stay on the bridge to resist the enemy.The enemy was visible in the distance from the opposite hill, but not from the bridge below, because the river flowed through the valley, and the opposite plateau appeared at the end of the horizon not more than half a mile further.There was a desert ahead, and a small group of Cossack scouts moved slowly somewhere in the desert.Suddenly the officers and artillerymen of the army in blue coats appeared on the opposite heights.They are all French.The Cossack scouts seemed to be flying down the mountain.All the officers and soldiers of Denisov's cavalry company, although they tried their best to talk about irrelevant things, looked around, but what they kept thinking about was only the movement on the mountain over there, and they kept watching the black spots that appeared on the horizon. , thinking that it was the enemy's army.It cleared again in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly on the Danube and the dark mountains around it.There was silence all around, and sometimes from the hill came the sound of horns and shouts of the enemy.Between the cavalry company and the enemy, except for a small group of scouts, there was no one left.About three hundred yards of empty ground separated them from the enemy.The enemy's firing ceased, and the formidable, inaccessible, indistinguishable line separating the hostile armies was now more clearly felt.

Take a step towards this line that seems to divide the living and the dead, and you will face unknown pain and death.what is therewho is thereBehind this field, trees, sunlit roof?No one knows, but wants to know very much.It's scary to cross that line but it's tempting to cross it.And you know, sooner or later you will have to look beyond the past in order to gain a deep understanding of what is beyond the line, as inevitably as it is inevitable to understand what is beyond death, while you yourself are strong and cheerful and excitable , the people around you are also strong, excitable, and lively.Everyone who sees the enemy has this feeling, if not the thought, and this feeling gives everything that happens at this moment a special luster and a pleasing deep and intense impression.

A puff of smoke rose from the enemy's hill after the artillery was fired, and a shell flew whizzing over the head of the cavalry company.The officers who had stood together scattered away.The hussars managed to line up the horses.There was silence in the cavalry company.Everyone looked straight ahead at the enemy, at the commander of the cavalry company, and waited for his command.The second shell and the third shell flew past.It was obvious that the shell was fired at the hussars, but the shell whistled quickly and rhythmically over the heads of the hussars, and hit somewhere behind.The hussars did not look around, but whenever they heard the sound of a cannonball, the whole cavalry company held their breath, as if obeying a command, some with the same facial expression, others not.They all sat up in their stirrups as the shells whizzed past, then sat down again.The soldiers did not turn their heads, but squinted their eyes at each other, carefully observing the reactions of their comrades with curiosity.From Denisov to the trumpeter, there was an expression of inner struggle, excitement, and excitement on every face, around lips and chin.The head of the department looked sad and looked at the soldiers from time to time, as if he wanted to threaten them with punishment.Cadet Zhuronov always bent over whenever a shell flew by.Rostov, riding his somewhat lame horse Rook, stood on the left flank, looking lucky, like a schoolboy who is called to take an exam in front of a crowd and believes that he will get a good grade. .His eyes were bright, and he looked at the crowd, as if to ask them to notice that he was not flustered and calm under the hail of bullets.But at the corner of his mouth, he couldn't help showing a very serious facial expression that was different from the past.

"Who's bowing down there? Sergeant Zhuronov? Very bad! Are you looking at me!" cried Denisov, who could not stand there and rode on The son circled in front of the cavalry company. The dark-haired Vasika Denisov's upturned nostrils, his small, muscular body, his veiny hand (with short, hairy fingers) holding the hilt of a saber drawn from its sheath, was nothing compared to the It looks exactly the same on a normal day, especially after drinking two bottles of soju before dusk.His face was flushed, but redder than usual.Like a bird drinking water, he raised his disheveled head, and with his thin legs stabbed the side of the good-looking Bedouin with spurs, his body seemed to fall backwards. , galloped off to the other wing of the company; he began to shout in his hoarse voice to check the pistols.At this moment he galloped up to Kirsten, and the captain of the cavalry rode a big, steady mare and took a step towards Denisov.The cavalry captain has a long mustache and is as serious as usual, but his eyes are more piercing than usual.

"What's the matter?" he said to Denisov, "it's impossible to fight. You can see that we must retreat." "The devil knows what they're doing!" Denisov grumbled. "Ah! Rostov!" he called out to the cadet when he saw the cheerful face. "Well, you've finally waited." He smiled admiringly, and obviously liked the cadets.Rostov considered himself extremely lucky.At this time the chief appeared on the bridge.Denisov rode up to him. "My lord! Let us attack! I will crush them all." "What's there to attack here," said the commander in a dull voice, frowning as if to drive away that annoying fly. "Why are you standing here? You see, the officers and soldiers on the two wings are retreating. You send the cavalry Take it back with you."

The company of cavalry crossed the bridge and retreated from range without a single casualty.The second cavalry company, which had previously opened up the skirmish line, followed behind, and the Cossacks who left last vacated the field. Two cavalry companies of Paulograd's regiment crossed the bridge and retreated up the hill, company after company.The commander of the regiment, Karl Bogdanich, rode up to Denisov's cavalry company, and he trotted not far from Rostov; although they had clashed about Telyanin, after the clash they We met for the first time, but he ignored him.Rostov felt that the person who had power over him at the front was the very person whom he felt sorry for at this moment.He gazed intently at the commander's strong back, the back of his light-haired head, and his flushed neck.Sometimes Rostov felt that Bogdanitch was only pretending to be inattentive, and that his intention at this moment was to test the courage of a cadet, so he straightened his chest and looked around with great pleasure.It seemed to him now and then that Bogdanitch was driving around on purpose to show Rostov his bravery.It occurred to him now and then that his enemy had deliberately sent a cavalry company on a desperate attack just now to punish him, Rostov.He thought again and again that, after the great attack, he was going to come up to him and extend a hand of peace to the wounded man with feigned generosity.

The towering figure of Zherkov, who was familiar to the officers and men of the Paulograd regiment (he had only recently left their regiment), rode up to the regimental commander.Zherkov, who had not remained in the regiment after his expulsion from the headquarters, said he understood the drudgery at the front and the greater rewards of not working at the headquarters.He obtained by his own merit the post of herald officer under Prince Bagration.He has an order from the commander of the rear guard to come to kowtow to the former chief. "Commander," he said, turning his face to Rostov's enemies, looking at his former comrades-in-arms with a sullen and serious expression, "order everyone to stop and burn the bridges."

"Who was the order issued to?" asked the head of the regiment stubbornly. "Colonel, I don't know to whom the order was given," replied the second lieutenant of cavalry solemnly. "The Duke only ordered me: go on horseback and tell the colonel to return the hussars quickly and burn the bridge." An aide-de-camp with the same orders followed Zherkov to greet the colonel of hussars.The chubby Nesvitsky galloped after the aide-de-camp on a Cossack horse that was laboring to carry him. "What's the matter, Colonel," he cried, while still riding, "I told you to burn the bridges, but now someone has got the word wrong, and they're all going crazy in there, messed up, can't figure it out .”

The colonel stopped the group calmly, turned to Nesvitsky, and said: "You told me about the fuel for the fire," he said, "but you said nothing about the burning of the bridge." "How can this be, old man?" Nesvitsky stopped, took off his military cap, smoothed his sweaty hair with his fat hands, and said, "the fuel for the fire has been put down, why didn't you say What about crossing the burnt bridge?" "Mr. Colonel, I'm not your old man. You didn't tell me about the burning of the bridge! I know what to do, and I have the habit of strictly following orders. You said you wanted to burn the bridge, but who will burn the bridge?" What? I just can't figure it out..."

"Well, there's always such a thing," Nesvitski said, waving his hand. "Why are you here?" he said to Zherkov. "Just for that. But you got your clothes wet, so let me wring them out for you." "Mr. Colonel, you said..." the colonel continued in an annoyed tone. "Colonel," interrupted the aide-de-camp, "make haste, or else the enemy will start firing cannonballs as they move closer." The colonel looked silently at the aide-de-camp, at the stout colonel, and at Zherkov, and frowned. "I'll burn the bridges," he said in a dignified tone, as if to signify that, in spite of all the troubles others might cause him, he would do what was right.

The colonel kicked the horse with his long, muscular legs, as if the horse was always guilty, and began to advance; Rostov, under Denisov's command, was serving in the second cavalry company, when the colonel asked The 2nd Cavalry Company gave the order to retreat to the bridge. "Well, that's true," Rostov thought for a while, "he's coming to test me!" His heart constricted, blood rushed to his face, and his anger rose. "Just ask him to see if I'm a coward." He thought for a while. On the very cheerful faces of the men of the cavalry company returned the stern expression with which they had stood under the shells.Rostov stared intently at his enemy, the regimental commander, trying to see in his face that his guess had been proven correct; Looking around complacently.A password was issued. "Hurry up! Hurry up!" several people around him said in unison. The hussars dismounted hastily, their sabers caught in the cords, their spurs jingling, not knowing what they were about to do.The hussars made the sign of the cross.Rostov had stopped visiting the regimental commander, he had no time to visit him.He was terribly frightened, flustered, and extremely nervous, fearing that he would fall behind the hussars.One of his hands trembled as he handed the horse over to the horseman, and he felt the blood rushing to his heart.Denisov leaned back, shouted something, and passed him.The hussars were caught by their spurs, their sabers clanged as they clashed, and he saw nothing but the hussars running about Rostov. "Stretcher!" someone yelled after him. Rostov didn't think about what it meant to call for a stretcher. He kept running, trying to get in front of the crowd, but when he reached the bridge, because he didn't pay attention to what was under his feet, he fell into the muddy mud. In the process, he tripped and fell, propped on the ground with both hands.Others bypassed him and ran to the front. "Cavalry captain, keep to the west," he heard the voice of the regimental commander, who rode to the front and stopped not far from the bridge, with a cheerful and self-satisfied expression on his face. Rostov wiped his muddy hands on his breeches, glanced at his enemy, and wanted to run further, thinking that the farther he ran the better.Although Bogdanitch did not look up at Rostov, and did not recognize him, he called out to him: "Who's running in the middle of the bridge? Keep to the right! Turn back, cadets!" he shouted angrily, turning his face to Denisov, who, wanting to show off his courage, rode He ran to the bridge. "Cavalry captain, why take the risk! Get off your horse," said the colonel. "Ah! It's the guilty man's misfortune," replied Vaska Denisov, sitting in the saddle, turning his face. At that time, Nesvitsky, Zherkov and the accompanying officers stood together out of range, sometimes watching the group of officers and soldiers squirming on the bridge. They wore yellow tall military caps and wore embroidered Taped dark green jacket and blue breeches, from time to time watching the French soldiers in blue coats and the crowd on horseback slowly approaching in the distance-it is easy to recognize that it is the artillery. "Will they burn the bridge, or fail to burn it? Who will do it first? Will they come first and burn the bridge, or will the French come first and shoot them all?" Almost everyone in the army could not help asking these questions to themselves, and the army, standing on the high ground opposite the bridge, was looking at the bridge and the hussars, watching the On the other side, and watched the French soldiers in blue coats, armed with bayonets and cannons, gradually advancing. "Alas! the hussars are going to be punished!" said Nesvitsky, "and are within shotgun range." "It was in vain for him to lead so many men," said an officer of the suite. "Really," said Nesvitski, "it's just a matter of two fine lads, all the same." "Oh, my lord," interrupted Zherkov, who was looking intently at the hussars, but with such innocence that it was impossible to know whether he was speaking seriously, "oh, my lord! How did you comment! Send two men, but who will award us the Order of Vladimir? So, even if they insist on fighting, it doesn't matter, you can still ask the chief to award the cavalry company, and he can get it himself Order of Vladimir. Our Bogdanich has a way of doing things." "Hey," said one of the squires, "it's shot!" He pointed to the several French guns that had been unloaded from the vehicle in front and hastily withdrawn. On the French side, a puff of gunpowder smoke rose from the crowds of officers and soldiers with cannon, while the second and third puffs of gunpowder smoke rose almost simultaneously; The fourth puff of gunpowder smoke.Two shots were heard, one after the other, and a third. "Ah, ah!" Nesvitsky sighed, clutching the officer's hand as if he felt a sharp pain, "Look, someone's fallen, fallen, fallen!" "Looks like two fell down, doesn't it?" "If I were a tsar, I would never go to war," Nesvitsky said, turning away. The French guns were hastily loaded again.The infantrymen in their blue coats ran towards a bridge.But at that different moment there was another puff of gunpowder smoke, and the crackling of cannonballs from the bridge.This time, Nesvitski couldn't see what was happening on the bridge.A cloud of smoke rose from the bridge.The hussars burned the bridge, and several French batteries fired upon them, not with the intention of disturbing their position, but aiming their cannons at the target and firing at them all. The French fired three shots before the hussars returned to the horsemen.Two shots were off the mark, and the shots flew past, but the last shot fell in the middle of a small group of hussars, and knocked three men down. Rostov was so worried about his attitude towards Bogdanich that he stopped on the bridge, not knowing what he was going to do.There was nobody to hack at this time (as he so often envisioned fighting), and he could not help others burn down bridges, for he did not carry a kindling braid like the other soldiers.He stood looking around, when suddenly there was a crackling sound on the bridge, like nuts falling, and the nearest hussar fell on the railing with a groan.Rostov and the others ran up to him.Someone else shouted: "Stretcher!" Four men helped the hussar up and lifted him up. "Ah! ah! ah! . . . For Christ's sake, do good, and throw me away," cried the wounded man, but they lifted him up and put him on a stretcher. Nikolai Rostov turned away, as if looking for something, and began to look into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, at the sun!How beautiful the sky is, how blue, how calm and deep!How bright and magnificent the setting sun was!How tenderly the waters of the distant Danube shone!The light blue distant mountains, temples, mysterious canyons, and smoky pine forests on the top of the trees on the other side of the Danube are more colorful.That place is quiet and peaceful... "As long as I stay there, I don't expect anything, I don't expect anything," thought Rostov, "in my heart there are many lights of happiness in this sun, and In this place, there is moaning, misery and terror, and the obscurity and bustle... People are shouting something, and they are running back, and I am running with them, you see, it is it, you see, There it is, death above me, reverberating around me... For a moment, I will never see this sun, this water, this canyon..." By this time the sun was beginning to hide behind the clouds; other stretchers appeared in front of Rostov.The terror of death and the stretcher and the love of the sun and life—all these had coalesced into one painful and terrifying impression. "God! Lord of heaven, save me, forgive me, protect me!" Rostov murmured. The hussars ran up to the horsemen, the voices of the people became louder and calmer, and the stretcher had disappeared. "Well, man, do you smell a little gunpowder? . . . " cried Vasika Denisov in his ear. "It's all over, but I'm a coward, yes, I'm a coward," Rostov thought for a while, sighed deeply, and took away his "white-mouthed" horse with a problem in his leg from the horseman. Crow" and rode up. "What is that, shot?" he asked Denisov. "Shotgun, of course, or something else!" cried Denisov. "We're good men at work! But this is a terrible job! It's a joy to lead the charge, and these dogs It's a waste of money, but here, people are shooting at us like a target." Denisov then approached the group standing near Rostov—the regimental commander, Nesvitsky, Zherkov, and the officer-in-charge. "But no one seems to have noticed," Rostov thought to himself.No one really noticed anything, because everyone was familiar with the feeling that cadets feel when they go into battle for the first time. "Here is a report from you," Zherkov said. "Look, I'm going to be a second lieutenant." "Please tell the duke that I burned the bridge," said the colonel cheerfully and triumphantly. "What if someone asks me about the casualties?" "That's all right!" said the colonel in a low voice. "Two hussars were wounded and one was killed in battle," he said with obvious joy, unable to suppress a cheerful smile, The voice categorically said the elegant word "death on the battlefield".