Chapter 21 Chapter 21

On the square from which the king was galloping, a battalion of Preobrazhensky's regiment stood on the right, and a battalion of the French Guards in bearskin hats stood facing each other on the left. As the king was approaching one flank of the two battalions of officers and men who were saluting their guns, another group of knights was approaching the opposite flank, and Rostov recognized Napoleon in the lead.It couldn't have been anyone else.He wore a top hat on his head, a ribbon of the Order of Andrei across his shoulders, a white sleeveless jacket, and a blue uniform with the buttons open. The saddle was covered with a crimson saddle embroidered with golden silk thread. He came galloping, and raised his top hat slightly when he arrived in front of Alexander.Rostov, the cavalryman's eye, could not fail to notice this movement, and Napoleon was riding awkwardly and unevenly.The officers and soldiers of both battalions shouted: "Urrah" and "Vivel' Empereur!" Napoleon said something to Alexander.The two emperors got off their horses and held hands.Napoleon wore an unhappy, feigned smile.Alexander was talking to him about something with an affectionate expression.

Although the horses of the French gendarmes who drove the crowd back were trampling wantonly, Rostov still watched every movement of Emperor Alexander and Bonaparte intently.To his amazement and surprise, Alexander treated Bonaparte on an equal footing, and Bonaparte treated the Czar of Russia on an equal footing, and Bonaparte felt so at ease that he seemed to think that it was natural and natural to be close to the king. matter. Alexander, Napoleon, and a long line of entourage following them went to the front of the right flank of Preobrazhensky's camp and walked straight up to the crowd standing there.Suddenly a crowd appeared so unconsciously near the two emperors that Rostov, standing in the front row of the crowd, was afraid that anyone would recognize him.

"Sire, jevousdemandelapermissiondedonAnerlalegiond'honneurauplusbravedevossoldats." A man with a piercing thin voice began, uttering the letters. -------- ① French: Long live the emperor! ②French: King, please let me issue the Legion of Honor to your bravest soldier. These words were spoken by the little Bonaparte, who looked directly into Alexander's eyes from below.Alexander listened attentively to him, bowed his head, and smiled cheerfully. "Aceluiquis'estle plus vaillament conduit danscette der ni-erguerre," Napoleon added, uttering each syllable clearly, and he looked around with the calm and confidence that Rostov found angry, standing erect before him, saluting his gun, concentrating A procession of Russian soldiers gazing at the face of the emperor.

"Votremajestemepermettra-t-ellededeAmanderl'avisducolonel?" said Alexander, taking a few hasty steps towards the battalion commander, Prince Kozlovski.At the same moment Bonaparte took a glove from his little white hand, tore it, and threw it on the ground.An adjutant hurried forward to pick it up. -------- ① French: Issued to the bravest person in this war. ② French: Your Majesty, please allow me to ask the colonel's opinion, please? "To whom?" Emperor Alexander asked Kozlovsky in a low voice in Russian. "Your Majesty, please tell me." The king frowned dissatisfiedly, looked around and said:

"I really have to answer him." Kozlovsky looked around his team firmly, and even Rostov was included in his sight. "Are you really paying attention to me?" Rostov thought for a while. "Lazarev!" The colonel frowned and shouted the password, and Lazarev, the first soldier in order of height, walked forward bravely. "Where are you going? Stop here!" Lazarev said to him in low voices because he didn't know where he was going.Lazarev stopped, looked startled, cast a sidelong glance at the colonel, and his face trembled, as often happens when soldiers are called to the front of the ranks.

Napoleon turned his head slightly, and stretched his chubby little hand back, as if wanting to grab something.Just then his squires guessed what was going on, began to panic, moved, and passed something to each other; the young squire that Rostov had seen yesterday at Boris's ran forward and respectfully greeted him. The outstretched hand bent down to spare it another second, and placed a medal with a red ribbon on it.Napoleon didn't even look at it, but just clamped it between his fingers, and the medal was caught between the two fingers without knowing it.Napoleon walked up to Lazarev. Lazarev stared at his king with wide eyes. Napoleon looked back at Emperor Alexander, expressing in his heart that what he was doing now was for his allies.His little white hand, holding the medal, touched the button of Private Lazarev.Napoleon seemed to know that as long as his Napoleon's hand touched the soldier's chest, the soldier would be lucky forever, be rewarded, and excel in the world.No sooner had Napoleon attached the Cross to Lazarev's chest than he lowered his hands and turned his face to Alexander, as if he knew that the Cross had to be glued to Lazarev's chest.The Cross is really glued.

In an instant several Russian and French gracious hands caught the cross and fastened it to the uniform.Lazarev looked gloomily at the small man with the small white hands who had touched him. Lazarev, still motionless in salute with his gun raised, stared fixedly at Alexander. eyes, as if he were asking Alexander: Will he continue to stand?Do you want him to walk around now?Or do you want him to do something?But no order was given to him, and he remained quite still for a long time. Both emperors rode away.The officers and soldiers of the Preobrazhensky battalion, having thrown the ranks into disarray, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the table prepared for them.

Lazarev was seated at the VIP table, and both Russian and French officers embraced him, congratulated him, and shook hands with him.Groups of officers and civilians came, just wanting to see Lazarev with their own eyes.The square around the table was filled with the chatter and laughter of Russians and Frenchmen.The two officers, flushed, cheerfully walked past Rostov. "Brother, isn't there a good banquet? All silver," said an officer. "See Lazarev?" "Saw." "It is said that the officers and soldiers of the Preobrazhensky Battalion will entertain them tomorrow."

"But how lucky Lazarev is! He has a lifetime pension of twelve hundred francs." "Look, brothers, what a nice hat!" exclaimed a member of the Preobrazhensky battalion, putting on a French shaggy hat. "Excellent, excellent!" "Did you hear the password?" said one officer of the Guards to the other, "Napoleon, France, bravoure the day before yesterday, Alexandre, Russie, gran-deur yesterday, one day the king of our country gave the command, the other Napoleon will issue the order. Tomorrow our King will award the George Cross to the bravest member of the French Guards. It must be so! Reciprocate."

-------- ①French: Napoleon, France, brave. ② French: Alexander, Russia, great. Boris and his partner Zhilinsky also came to watch the banquet held by the officers and soldiers of the Preobrazhensky battalion.On his way back Boris spotted Rostov standing in a corner of the house. "Rostov! Hello! We haven't met," he said to him, and could not help asking him what was the matter; for Rostov's face was gloomy and unhappy. "Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov. "Are you stopping by?" "Well, I'll come." Rostov stood for a long time in the corner of the room, watching the feasters from afar.An unbearable anguish arose in his mind, and terrible doubts arose in his soul.From time to time he recalled Denisov's altered facial expression, his meekness, the atmosphere of the hospital, the amputated siblings, filth and disease.He seemed to be deeply aware of the smell of dead bodies in the hospital now, and he looked around, trying to figure out where the smell was coming from.He thought now and then of this self-satisfied Bonaparte, with his little white hands, who was now the Emperor Alexander loved and revered.Amputate hands and feet, beat people to death, what is the purpose of this?From time to time he thought of Lazarev, who was rewarded, and Denisov, who was punished and not tolerated.He often found himself having such queer thoughts that he became frightened.

The smell of the food eaten by the officers and men of the Preobrazhensky battalion and Rostov's hunger roused him from this stagnation, and he should have something to eat before leaving.He went to the restaurant he had seen in the morning.In the restaurant he met many civilians and officers who, like himself, had come to the local area in civilian clothes, and it was with difficulty that he managed to secure a meal.He was accompanied by two officers who served in the same division as him.Needless to say, the topic touched on peace.The officers, that is, the Rostov comrades, like most of the army, were dissatisfied with the peace concluded after Friedland.It is said that if Napoleon persisted a little longer, he would be ruined, and his army had neither bread nor ammunition.Nikolai ate in silence, mostly drinking.He drank two bottles of wine by himself, and the painful thoughts in his heart did not go away, and they always made him feel uncomfortable.He was afraid of sinking into his own thoughts, but he couldn't get rid of them.When one of the officers suddenly said that it was hard to see French officers and soldiers, Rostov yelled at these words, irritably and for no reason, to the astonishment of the two officers. "How can you judge which action is more appropriate!" He blushed suddenly and shouted loudly, "How can you judge the king's actions? What right do we have to comment?! We can't understand the king's will, There is no way to understand the behavior of the king!" "I haven't said a word about the king." The officer defended himself, and had no reason to explain his haste to himself except that Rostov was drunk. But Rostov would not listen to him. "We are not diplomats, but soldiers, and there is nothing else to say," he went on, "that we are ordered to die, and so to die. If there is a punishment, it means that there is a fault; we cannot comment. Emperor Your Majesty is willing to recognize Bonaparte as an emperor and make an alliance with him, that is to say, it must be done. Otherwise, if we comment on everything and talk about everything, then there is nothing sacred. Then we will say that there is no God, Nothing." Nicholas thumped the table, shouting, which, according to his interlocutor, was quite inappropriate, but according to his train of thought, quite logical. "Our business is to do our duty, to kill each other, without thinking, and nothing else," he concluded. "Drink," said an officer who did not want to quarrel. "Yes, let's have a drink," agreed Nicholas. "Hey, you! Another bottle!" he called out.