Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen

That night Rostov was on the skirmish line in front of Bagration's troops.His hussars were distributed in pairs on this skirmish line; he himself rode up and down along the skirmish line, struggling with an insurmountable drowsiness.Behind him the half-lit bonfire of our troops could be seen occupying a large clearing in the mist; ahead of him there was a dim mist.No matter how carefully Rostov scanned the foggy distance, he could see nothing.Now something gray appeared there, now something seemed to appear black, now there seemed to be a flicker of fire in the place where the enemy was entrenched, and now it occurred to him that it was only the glint of his eyes.He closed his eyes, and sometimes he thought of the king, sometimes Denisov, and sometimes memories of Moscow. He opened his eyes quickly, and saw the head and ears of the horse he was riding not far in front of him. At a distance of six paces he was on the verge of meeting hussars, whose dark figures he sometimes saw; and in the distance it was still a dim mist. "Why?" thought Rostov, "perhaps the king met me, as he does any officer, and gave me a mission," he said: "Go and find out what's going on there. They talked a lot. , that he met some officer by chance, and made him his confidant. What if he made me his confidant! Ah, I would defend him, I would say to him Tell the whole truth, I really want to expose those crooks who are against him!" In order to vividly imagine his love and loyalty to the king, Rostov imagined the appearance of an enemy or a German crook in his mind.He not only wanted to kill him happily, but also slapped him in the eyes of the king.Suddenly a distant cry woke Rostov, and he shivered and opened his eyes.

"Where am I! Yes, on the skirmisher line, the watchword and code word is 'Coilbar, Olmitz.' What a pity that our cavalry company will be serving as reserve tomorrow." He thought for a moment. , "I ask to go to war. This may be the only chance to see the king. Yes, from now on, it will not be long before I have to change shifts. I will go on patrol again, and when I return, I will go to the general immediately and make a request to him ’” He corrected his posture on the saddle, rode his horse through, and went to inspect his hussars.It seemed to him that it was getting brighter.On the left you can see the slow moonlit slope, steep as a wall, rising above the dark hills on the other side.Was there a white spot on this hill that Rostov could not make out, was it a glade illuminated by a crescent moon, or a pile of leftover snow, or a house of chalk?He even felt that something began to move slowly along this white spot. "This white spot may be snow," the French word for "idea" is "unetache,"

thought Rostov. "It's not Tash..." "Natasha, sister, with dark eyes, Na... Tashka, (when I tell her that I see the king's complete world view, a philosophical system", the Marxist proletariat, how surprised she will be!) ) with Natashka ... the picture bag ... "Stay to the right, sir, or you'll really bump into the bushes here," came the voice of the hussar, and Rostov fell drowsily Walk past him.Rostov raised his head, which was drooping on his horse's mane, and stopped beside the hussar.The childlike young man was very sleepy. "Oh, what on earth am I thinking?—don't forget. How am I going to talk to the king? No, not that, tomorrow. Yes, yes, trampling Tashka . . . makes us dull - Dumb who? Dumb the hussars. Hussars and beards... I remember this bearded hussar riding along Tverskaya Street, just across from Guriev's house ... old man Guriev ... Hey, Denisov is a very nice guy! But it's all nonsense. The main thing is that the king is here now. What he thinks of me, I want to tell him Say something, but he doesn't dare... No, I dare not. It's all nonsense, the main thing is, don't forget what's on my mind, there's nothing wrong with that. Stepping on Tashka makes us dull Yes, yes, yes. It's wonderful." He dropped his head on the horse's neck again.He suddenly felt that someone was shooting at him. "What's the matter? What's the matter? What's the matter?...Kill! What's the matter?..." Rostov said after regaining consciousness.The instant Rostov opened his eyes, he heard the shouts of thousands of people on the enemy side ahead.One of his horses, and that of the hussar standing beside him, strained their ears to hear the shouts.At the point where the shout came, the fire flickered, died out, and then was kindled again, and the whole line of the French army on that hill flickered, and the shout was louder.Rostov heard the Frenchman's voice, but he could not hear it clearly.Many people are chatting on twitter.Now the sound of "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" can be heard.

"What's that sound? What do you think?" said Rostov, turning to the hussar standing beside him. "You know, it's the voice of the enemy, isn't it?" "Why, can't you hear?" Rostov waited for an answer, and after a long wait, asked again. "Your Excellency, who knows," replied the hussar reluctantly. "Looking at the location, maybe it's the enemy?" Rostov repeated. "Maybe it's the enemy, maybe it's not the enemy," said the hussar. "What happened at night. Well, no messing around!" he shouted to his slightly restless horse.

Rostov's horse also grew impatient, kicked one hoof on the frozen ground, listened to the noise, and gazed dreamily at the firelight.The shouts became louder and louder, until they merged into a roar that could only be emitted by an army of thousands of people.The scope of the spread of the fire is getting wider and wider, probably extending across the entire line of the French camp.Rostov could not sleep anymore.He was agitated by the triumphant cheers of the enemy.Now Rostov has clearly heard "Vivel'empereur, l'empereur"! ① voice. -------- ① French: Long live the emperor, the emperor!

"But it's not far from here—on the other side of the brook, perhaps?" he said to the hussars who stood by him. The hussar sighed, and, without replying, cleared his throat with an angry cough.The hooves of the galloping knights could be heard along the entire line of the hussars, and the figure of a hussar sergeant suddenly appeared from the mist of the night like a gigantic elephant. "Your Excellency, the generals are here!" said the hussar sergeant, approaching Rostov. Rostov continued to watch the flames and listen to the shouts. He accompanied the non-commissioned officer to meet several horsemen who were galloping along the skirmish line.One of them is riding a white horse.Prince Bagration, Prince Dolgorukov, and some adjutants came out to observe the strange sight of the enemy's fire and shouts.Rostov went up to Bagration, reported the situation to him, joined the rank of adjutants, and listened to the generals.

"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, turning his face to Bagration, "this is nothing but a conspiracy: he has retreated, ordered fires and noises in the rear, in order to deceive us." "Not necessarily so," said Bagration. "I saw them entrenched on that hill at nightfall. If they left, they would have taken camp there. Sir," said Prince Bagration, turning his face away. Rostov said, "Are there any defenders on his flank?" "Your Excellency, it was still there at night, and now I have no way of knowing. Please give me an order, and I will lead the hussars in pursuit," said Rostov.

Bagration stopped without answering, trying to see Rostov's face through the mist. "Well, let's go and have a look." He said after a moment of silence. "My lord, obey." Rostov stabbed the horse with spurs, called the non-commissioned officer Fedchenko and two hussars, and ordered them to ride behind and gallop down the hill where the shouts kept coming.Rostov, leading three hussars alone, was terrified and delighted as he set off into the mysterious and dangerous misty distance where no one had reached before him.Bagration shouted to him from the hill not to go far beyond the river, but Rostov pretended not to hear him, and went on and on, farther and farther away, Constantly being deceived, mistaking the shrubs for the woods and the ridges for the people, constantly realizing that I was being deceived.After he quickly walked down the mountain, he could no longer see our side or the enemy's flames, but he could hear the shouts of French officers and soldiers getting louder and clearer.In the valley he saw something like a river ahead of him, but when he reached the end of the field he found a rutted road.He stepped onto the road, reined in the horse lightly, hesitating, and went along the road, or crossed the road and walked down the hill along the black field.It is safer to ride along the road that shines in the smog, because pedestrians on the road can be seen clearly at a glance. "Follow me," he said, and crossing the road, he began to climb rapidly up the hill towards the place where the French sentries were stationed for the night.

"My lord, this is the enemy!" said a hussar behind. Before Rostov had time to see the blackness that suddenly appeared through the mist, a flash of fire flashed and a shot rang out.As if complaining about something, the bullet whizzed through the high mist, and was instantly inaudible.Another shot missed, and a spark flickered on the powder pool.Rostov turned his horse's head and walked back quickly.Four more shots fired at different intervals, the bullets singing their own tunes somewhere in the mist.Rostov heard the gunshot, reined in the horse, which was as happy as himself, a little, and walked slowly step by step. "Hey, one more shot, hey, one more shot!" said his cheerful inner voice, but there was no more shot.

Only when Rostov galloped up to Bagration did he let his horse gallop again, and Rostov moved up to him, raising his hands in salute. Dolgorukov has always insisted on his opinion, insisting that the army has retreated, and they are lighting fires everywhere, just trying to deceive us. "What does that prove?" said Rostov, as he came up to them, "perhaps they have retreated and left their sentries behind." "Prince, it seems that they are not gone yet," said Bagration. "Tomorrow morning, we will see tomorrow." "My lord, there are still sentries on the mountain, and they have been staying at the place where they occupy the night," Rostov told, bending forward, raising his hands in salute, and couldn't help showing a pleasant smile.It was chiefly the whistling of the bullets that he rode this time that brought this pleasant feeling into his heart.

"Well, well," said Bagration, "thank you, sir." "My lord," said Rostov, "I want to ask you." "what happened?" "Tomorrow our cavalry company will be sent to serve as a reserve. I beg you to transfer me temporarily to the 1st cavalry company." "What's your last name?" "Count Rostov." "Okay! You can stay with me and be a herald officer." "Ilya Andreitch's son?" said Dolgorukov. But Rostov did not answer him. "My lord, then I shall be on standby." "I'll give the order." "To-morrow there may well be an order to be sent to the king," he thought, "thank God!" The shouts and torches were raised among the enemy troops because they read Napoleon's decree to the troops, while the Emperor himself rode around his camp.When the soldiers saw the emperor, they lit bundles of straw and ran after him, shouting: "Long live the emperor".Napoleon's decree reads as follows: soldiers!The Russian army has avenged the Austrian and Ulm armies and is now attacking you.These are the battalions which you defeated at the outskirts of Hollabrunn and have pursued there ever since.The position we occupy is so powerful that when they advance to outflank our army from the right, they are bound to expose their flanks to our army!soldiers!I myself lead your battalion.If with common valor you can cause consternation in the ranks of the enemy, I can stay far from the line of fire; but if victory is feared even for a moment, you will see your emperor receive the first blow of the enemy , because victory is unshakable, especially when it comes to the honor of the French infantry, which is an indispensable armed force in the fight for national honor. Troops should not be paralyzed under the pretext of sending away the wounded!Everyone should be filled with the idea that these British mercenaries who hate our nation so much must be defeated.This victory will end our campaign, and we will return to our winter quarters, where we will meet the newly arrived French troops formed by France, and the peace I will make will be worthy of my people, of you, and of Live up to me.