Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen

From the night of October 6th to the morning of the 7th, the French began to retreat overnight: The shed and kitchen were dismantled, the carts were loaded, and the troops and the train set off first. At 7 o'clock in the morning on the 7th, in front of the shed stood a line of escorts in full marching uniform, wearing tall military caps, armed with live ammunition, carrying knapsacks and large sacks. French expletives. In the shed all were ready, dressed, belted, and booted, and awaited the order to go.The essence of that sick soldier Sokolov, from which everything in the universe was created.The process of creation is arbitrary, pale, thin, black and blue around the eyes, and he is alone, without clothes or boots, still sitting in the same place, two thin and bulging eyeballs Staring questioningly at his companions who were not paying attention to him at the moment, he groaned evenly.Evidently, it was not pain (he had a severe case of dysentery) but rather his fear and sadness at being left alone that made him groan.

Pierre, with a rope tied around his waist, and wearing shoes Karatayev made out of leather torn from a tea chest (a French soldier mended the soles of his boots with them), walked up to the sick man. Beside, squat down. "Well, Sokolov, they're not all gone! They've got a hospital here, and you're probably better off than us," said Pierre. "My God! I'm dying! My God!" the soldier moaned louder. "Then I will ask them again now," said Pierre, getting up and going towards the door.Just as Pierre approached the door, it happened that the squad leader who asked Pierre to smoke yesterday led two soldiers in from outside.The squad leader and the two soldiers were dressed for the march, with a backpack on their backs and a tall military cap with shiny gold trim, which changed their usual familiar appearance.

The squad leader approached the gate. He had come to close the gate under the orders of the superior.Before the prisoners are released, the number of prisoners must be counted. "Caporal, quefera-t-ondumalade?" Pierre began; In that instant, he was no longer what he used to be.Moreover, at the very moment Pierre was speaking, drums were pounding from both sides.The monitor frowned at Pierre's words, uttered an absurd curse, and slammed the door.The shed grew dark; the drums on both sides were beating deafeningly, drowning out the groans of the sick man. "That's coming!... That's coming again!" Pierre said to himself, and a cold breath came through his vest.From the changed face of the squad leader, from his voice, from the deafening beating of the drums, which became more and more tense, Pierre already felt the force that forces people to kill themselves against their will. The same kind, during the execution, the mysterious and ruthless force that he had seen before was at work again.It is useless to fear or seek to evade this power, to appeal to or counsel those who are its instruments.Pierre knew this by now.Wait and be patient.Pierre no longer went to the sick man, nor did he look at him again.He was silent, wrinkled

-------- ①French: Monitor, what should the patient do? ... Brow, standing by the shed door. The shed door was opened, and the captives rushed towards the door like a flock of sheep.Pierre pushed ahead of them and went up to the captain (the same captain who the squad leader had told him would do anything for Pierre).The captain was also dressed for the march, and on his cold face Pierre had already understood the "that" from what the squad leader said and the beating of drums. "Filez, filez," ① the captain frowned sternly, watching the prisoners huddled in front of him, and urged repeatedly.Pierre knew that his attempt would be fruitless, but he still walked towards him.

"Ehbien, qu'estcequ'ilya?" ②The officer asked Pierre coldly, as if he didn't know him.Pierre told him about the sick man. "Ilpourramarcher, quediable!" said the captain, "Filez, filez." He kept urging Pierre without even looking at him. "Maisnon, ilestal'agonie..." began Pierre. "Voulezvousbien?!" The captain frowned and shouted angrily. -------- ①French: Go fast, go fast. ②French: Hey, what else can I do? ③French: He has to go too, damn it, go, go. ④French: But no, he is dying... ⑤French: go go go? ! ... "Boom! Boom! Boom!" The drums were beating loudly.Pierre understood that this mysterious force had completely controlled these people, and it was useless to say anything now.

Separate the captured officers from the soldiers and tell them to go ahead.There were more than 30 officers, including Pierre, and more than 300 soldiers. The captured officers released from the other sheds were strangers, much better dressed than Pierre, and looked at Pierre and his shoes with suspicion and distance.Not far from Pierre walked a stout major in a Kazan robe and a towel around his waist, with a yellowed, swollen, scowling face, who seemed to be universally respected by his fellow captives .He held a cigarette bag under one arm, and leaned on the long pipe pipe with the other hand.The major was panting, steaming, grunting, angry at everyone, feeling that everyone was crowding him, and when they were not in a hurry to go somewhere, they were all in a hurry, when there was nothing When things are worth making a fuss about, all the fuss is about.A thin officer was talking to everyone speculating, where are they being taken now?And how far to go today.An officer in felt boots and the uniform of the Ordnance Department was running around, looking at Moscow after it had been burned, and he was telling aloud what he had observed, what had been burned, what was this or that part of Moscow.A third officer, speaking with a Polish accent, argued with the depot officer, pointing out that he had misidentified the Moscow neighborhood.

"What are you arguing about?" said the major angrily. "Nicholas and Frass, it's all the same; you see, it's all burned up, and that's it... What are you squeezing? The road is not wide enough." " He turned angrily to the person behind him, but that person did not squeeze him. "Oh, oh, oh, what have they done!" The prisoners looked at the fire site, and they said one by one. "And the city on the south bank of the Moscow River, and the Zubovo district, and the Kremlin... Look, there's less than half of it left. I told you, the city on the south bank of the Moscow River is gone, that's all .”

"Why talk about it when you know it's all burned!" said the major. Passing a church in the Khamovnik district (one of the few unburned districts of Moscow), all the prisoners suddenly stepped aside, uttering cries of terror and disgust. "Oh, these rascals! What heartless things!" It was a dead man, a dead man... and his face was painted black. Hearing the scream, Pierre walked towards the church, and vaguely saw something leaning against the wall of the church.From the mouth of his companion who saw it more clearly than he knew, it was a dead body, standing upright against the wall, its face covered with soot.

"Marchez, sacrenom...Filez...trentemillediables..." ① There was a sound of cursing from the escorting soldiers, and the attitude of the French soldiers became rough again, waving short knives to drive away the prisoners who were looking at the dead bodies. -------- ① French: go!go... you devils...