Chapter 9 Chapter nine

The Wulian garrison is close to the edge of the forest.A big fire burned red and bright in the snow.The firelight illuminated the branches bent by the frost and snow. In the middle of the night, the soldiers of the fifth company heard footsteps on the snow in the forest and the crackling of branches on the ground. "Brothers, there are bears," said a soldier.Everyone raised their heads and listened carefully. Two figures in strange clothes, supporting each other, walked towards the light of the fire from the forest. These are two Frenchmen hiding in the forest.They spoke hoarsely and incomprehensibly to the soldiers as they approached the fire.One was a little taller, wearing an officer's cap, and looked exhausted.Approaching the fire, philosophy of physics, making a philosophical summary of the research results of physics, research objects, he wanted to sit down, but fell to the ground.The other, short and stocky, with a handkerchief wrapped around his face, lifted his companion up from the ground, pointed to his mouth, and said a few words.The soldiers surrounded the two Frenchmen, spread overcoats on the sick ones, and brought them porridge and vodka.

The exhausted French officer was Lambalet; the man with the handkerchief wrapped around his face was his orderly Morel. After drinking vodka and a bowl of porridge, Morrel suddenly became strangely gay and grumbled to the soldiers who did not understand his language.Lambalet neither ate nor drank, and lay silently by the fire with his head on his elbows, watching the Russian soldiers with indifferent, red eyes.From time to time he sighed, and then fell silent again.Morrel pointed to his shoulder and signaled to the soldiers that this was an officer and that he should be warmed up.A Russian officer who had approached the fire sent to ask the regimental commander if he could allow a French officer to come to his room to keep warm.The men who had been sent came back and said that the commander of the regiment had ordered the French officers to be taken away.So Lambale was informed.He got up and tried to go, but he couldn't keep his footing, and would have fallen almost again had not a soldier standing beside him held him up.

"What's the matter? You're not coming?" said a soldier, winking mockingly at Lambalet. "Hey, fool! What nonsense are you talking about! You bumpkin, what a bumpkin!" Everyone chided the joking soldier in unison.They gathered around Lambale, lifted him onto a "stretcher" formed by two soldiers holding hands, and carried him into the house.Lambalet threw his arms around the neck of a soldier who was carrying him, and said mournfully: "Oh, mesbraves, oh, mesbons, mesbonsamis! Voiladeshommes! oh, mesbraves, mesbonsamis!" Like a child, he rested his head on a soldier's shoulder.

Meanwhile Morrel sat in the best place by the fire, surrounded by the soldiers. Morel was a short, stocky Frenchman with red, weeping eyes, a woman's kerchief on his military cap, and a woman's fur coat.Evidently drunk, he sang French songs hoarsely and staccatoly, with his arms around the soldier sitting beside him.The soldiers stared at him and laughed loudly. "Hey, hey, teach us, how about it?" "We will learn it as soon as we learn it, how about it? . . . " said the clown-singer, whom Morrel had in his arms. Vive Henriquatre, Viveceroivailant! ② Morel sang, winking.

Cediable aquatre...③ "Weiwali! Weifu, Sailuwalu! Xichuan Bolalo..." ④The soldier waved his hand and drank, and he really caught up with the tune. -------- ①French: Oh, good man!O good, good friends!This is the real man, my well-meaning friends. ② French: Long live Henry IV, long live, brave king! ③French: Henry IV that devil... ④ imitate the pronunciation of French. "Good fellow! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" A wild, merry laugh broke out, and Morrel frowned, and laughed too. "Hey, come on, one more, one more!" Quieutlet tripletalent, Deboire, debattre,

Etd'treunvert galant...① "It's the right tune, come on, come on, come on, Zaletayev! . . . " "Kyu..." Zaletayev sang with all his might. "K-yu-yu..." He pursed his lips hard and sang in a drawn out voice. "Letrib Tala, Ji-bu-ji-ba, Jitra Wajala!" he sang. -------- ① French: He has three skills: drinking, fighting, and being a lover... ② imitate the pronunciation of French. "Wow! It's the same as the French! Ah...hahahaha! How about it, do you want to eat more?" "Give him some porridge; if you are too hungry, you won't be able to eat all at once."

Porridge was brought to him again, and Morrel ate a third bowl.The young soldiers all looked at Morel with happy smiles on their faces.The older soldiers, who thought it disrespectful to engage in such frivolity, lay on the other side of the fire, and now and then raised themselves on their elbows and looked at Morrel with a smile. "They are human beings, too," said a soldier wrapped in a greatcoat, "and even bittersweet grows from its own roots." "Oh, God, God! The sky is full of stars, densely packed, and the sky is even colder..." Everything fell silent.

The stars, as if they knew that no one was looking at them now, were roiling in the dark sky, flickering and quivering, busily talking to each other in pleasant, mysterious whispers.