Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catchsight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our Uhlans. Nearer andnearer in disorderly crowds came the Uhlans and the French dragoonspursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so smallat the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, wavingtheir arms and their sabers in the air.

　　Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. Hefelt instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoonsnow, the latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to bemade it must be done now, at that very moment, or it would be toolate. He looked around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazinglike himself with eyes fixed on the cavalry below them.

　　"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crushthem...."

　　"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..."

　　Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, gallopedto the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finishgiving the word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling,was following him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it.He acted as he did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. Hesaw the dragoons near and that they were galloping in disorder; heknew they could not withstand an attack- knew there was only thatmoment and that if he let it slip it would not return. The bulletswere whining and whistling so stimulatingly around him and his horsewas so eager to go that he could not restrain himself. He touchedhis horse, gave the word of command, and immediately, hearing behindhim the tramp of the horses of his deployed squadron, rode at fulltrot downhill toward the dragoons. Hardly had they reached thebottom of the hill before their pace instinctively changed to agallop, which grew faster and faster as they drew nearer to our Uhlansand the French dragoons who galloped after them. The dragoons were nowclose at hand. On seeing the hussars, the foremost began to turn,while those behind began to halt. With the same feeling with whichhe had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov gave rein to hisDonets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the dragoons'disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot flunghimself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderlesshorse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons weregalloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashedafter him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse clearedit, and almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw thathe would immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. ThatFrenchman, by his uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouchingon his gray horse and urging it on with his saber. In another momentRostov's horse dashed its breast against the hindquarters of theofficer's horse, almost knocking it over, and at the same instantRostov, without knowing why, raised his saber and struck the Frenchmanwith it.

　　The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. Theofficer fell, not so much from the blow- which had but slightly cuthis arm above the elbow- as from the shock to his horse and fromfright. Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to seewhom he had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping withone foot on the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. Hiseyes, screwed up with fear as if he every moment expected anotherblow, gazed up at Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale andmud-stained face- fair and young, with a dimple in the chin andlight-blue eyes- was not an enemy's face at all suited to abattlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face. Before Rostov haddecided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I surrender!" Hehurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the stirrup anddid not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face. Somehussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into thesaddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one waswounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up hishorse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms roundhim; a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. Infront, the French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussarsgalloped hastily back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped backwith the rest, aware of an unpleasant feeling of depression in hisheart. Something vague and confused, which he could not at all accountfor, had come over him with the capture of that officer and the blowhe had dealt him.

　　Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent forRostov, thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed tothe Emperor and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. Whensent for by Count Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had chargedwithout orders, felt sure his commander was sending for him topunish him for breach of discipline. Ostermann's flattering wordsand promise of a reward should therefore have struck him all themore pleasantly, but he still felt that same vaguely disagreeablefeeling of moral nausea. "But what on earth is worrying me?" heasked himself as he rode back from the general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe.Have I disgraced myself in any way? No, that's not it." Somethingelse, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes, oh yes, that Frenchofficer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm paused when Iraised it."

　　Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them tohave a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He wassitting in his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and lookedanxiously about him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be calleda wound. He glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved hishand in greeting. Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, asof shame.

　　All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed thatRostov, without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, andpreoccupied. He drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and keptturning something over in his mind.

　　Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his,which to his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross andeven given him a reputation for bravery, and there was something hecould not at all understand. "So others are even more afraid than Iam!" he thought. "So that's all there is in what is called heroism!And heroism! And did I do it for my country's sake? And how was heto blame, with his dimple and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! Hethought that I should kill him. Why should I kill him? My handtrembled. And they have given me a St. George's Cross.... I can't makeit out at all."

　　But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still couldreach no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortunein the service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After theaffair at Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command ofan hussar battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he waschosen.