Book Two: 1805 - Chapter VIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezingtogether as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At lastthe baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the lastbattalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussarsremained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who couldbe seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visiblefrom the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through whichthe river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mileaway. At the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups ofour Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of thehigh ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. Thesewere the French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill ata trot. All the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though theytried to talk of other things and to look in other directions, thoughtonly of what was there on the hilltop, and kept constantly lookingat the patches appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be theenemy's troops. The weather had cleared again since noon and the sunwas descending brightly upon the Danube and the dark hills aroundit. It was calm, and at intervals the bugle calls and the shouts ofthe enemy could be heard from the hill. There was no one now betweenthe squadron and the enemy except a few scattered skirmishers. Anempty space of some seven hundred yards was all that separated them.The enemy ceased firing, and that stern, threatening, inaccessible,and intangible line which separates two hostile armies was all themore clearly felt.

　　"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the linedividing the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, anddeath. And what is there? Who is there?- there beyond that field, thattree, that roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants toknow. You fear and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooneror later it must be crossed and you will have to find out what isthere, just as you will inevitably have to learn what lies the otherside of death. But you are strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, andare surrounded by other such excitedly animated and healthy men." Sothinks, or at any rate feels, anyone who comes in sight of theenemy, and that feeling gives a particular glamour and glad keennessof impression to everything that takes place at such moments.

　　On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannonrose, and a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron.The officers who had been standing together rode off to theirplaces. The hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silencefell on the whole squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front andat the squadron commander, awaiting the word of command. A secondand a third cannon ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at thehussars, but the balls with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the headsof the horsemen and fell somewhere beyond them. The hussars did notlook round, but at the sound of each shot, as at the word ofcommand, the whole squadron with its rows of faces so alike yet sodifferent, holding its breath while the ball flew past, rose in thestirrups and sank back again. The soldiers without turning their headsglanced at one another, curious to see their comrades' impression.Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler, showed one commonexpression of conflict, irritation, and excitement, around chin andmouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the soldiers as ifthreatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every time a ballflew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook- a handsomehorse despite its game leg- had the happy air of a schoolboy called upbefore a large audience for an examination in which he feels sure hewill distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a clear,bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat underfire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication ofsomething new and stern showed round the mouth.

　　"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight!Look at me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, keptturning his horse in front of the squadron.

　　The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his wholeshort sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers inwhich he held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usuallydid, especially toward evening when he had emptied his secondbottle; he was only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrownback like birds when they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly intothe sides of his good horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though fallingbackwards in the saddle, he galloped to the other flank of thesquadron and shouted in a hoarse voice to the men to look to theirpistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The staff captain on his broad-backed,steady mare came at a walk to meet him. His face with its longmustache was serious as always, only his eyes were brighter thanusual.

　　"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to afight. You'll see- we shall retire."

　　"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah,Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got itat last."

　　And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet.Rostov felt perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on thebridge. Denisov galloped up to him.

　　"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off."

　　"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up hisface as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stoppinghere? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead thesquadron back."

　　The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of firewithout having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been inthe front line followed them across and the last Cossacks quittedthe farther side of the river.

　　The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired upthe hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl BogdanichSchubert, came up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not farfrom Rostov, without taking any notice of him although they were nowmeeting for the first time since their encounter concerningTelyanin. Rostov, feeling that he was at the front and in the power ofa man toward whom he now admitted that he had been to blame, did notlift his eyes from the colonel's athletic back, his nape coveredwith light hair, and his red neck. It seemed to Rostov thatBogdanich was only pretending not to notice him, and that his wholeaim now was to test the cadet's courage, so he drew himself up andlooked around him merrily; then it seemed to him that Bogdanich rodeso near in order to show him his courage. Next he thought that hisenemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack just to punishhim- Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack, Bogdanich wouldcome up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously extend thehand of reconciliation.

　　The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds ashe had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. Afterhis dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in theregiment, saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the frontwhen he could get more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, andhad succeeded in attaching himself as an orderly officer to PrinceBagration. He now came to his former chief with an order from thecommander of the rear guard.

　　"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air ofgloomy gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is anorder to stop and fire the bridge."

　　"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely.

　　"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serioustone, "but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that thehussars must return quickly and fire the bridge.'"

　　Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to thecolonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stoutNesvitski came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcelycarry his weight.

　　"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you tofire the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they areall beside themselves over there and one can't make anything out."

　　The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned toNesvitski.

　　"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you saidnothing about firing it."

　　"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his capand smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand,"wasn't I telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable materialhad been put in position?"

　　"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tellme to burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit ordersstrictly to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who wouldit burn, I could not know by the holy spirit!"

　　"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand."How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov.

　　"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!"

　　"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel inan offended tone.

　　"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must bequick or the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot."

　　The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at thestout staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned.

　　"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announcethat in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he wouldstill do the right thing.

　　Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were toblame for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the secondsquadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return tothe bridge.

　　"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "Hewishes to test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to hisface. "Let him see whether I am a coward!" he thought.

　　Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expressionappeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy,the colonel, closely- to find in his face confirmation of his ownconjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, andlooked as he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then camethe word of command.

　　"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him.

　　Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, thehussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. Themen were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at thecolonel, he had no time. He was afraid of falling behind thehussars, so much afraid that his heart stood still. His handtrembled as he gave his horse into an orderly's charge, and he feltthe blood rush to his heart with a thud. Denisov rode past him,leaning back and shouting something. Rostov saw nothing but thehussars running all around him, their spurs catching and theirsabers clattering.

　　"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him.

　　Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on,trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, notlooking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud,stumbled, and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him.

　　"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who,having ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with atriumphant, cheerful face.

　　Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemyand was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to thefront the better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizingRostov, shouted to him:

　　"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right!Come back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who,showing off his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge:

　　"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said.

　　"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turningin his saddle.

　　Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite werestanding together out of range of the shots, watching, now the smallgroup of men with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord,and blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, andthen at what was approaching in the distance from the opposite side-the blue uniforms and groups with horses, easily recognizable asartillery.

　　"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will theyget there and fire the bridge or will the French get withingrapeshot range and wipe them out?" These were the questions eachman of the troops on the high ground above the bridge involuntarilyasked himself with a sinking heart- watching the bridge and thehussars in the bright evening light and the blue tunics advancing fromthe other side with their bayonets and guns.

　　"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are withingrapeshot range now."

　　"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of thesuite.

　　"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could havedone the job just as well."

　　"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on thehussars, but still with that naive air that made it impossible to knowwhether he was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency!How you look at things! Send two men? And who then would give us theVladimir medal and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered,the squadron may be recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon.Our Bogdanich knows how things are done."

　　"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot."

　　He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were beingdetached and hurriedly removed.

　　On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smokeappeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and atthe moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then tworeports one after another, and a third.

　　"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing theofficer of the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen,fallen!"

　　"Two, I think."

　　"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turningaway.

　　The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blueuniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again butat irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto thebridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happeningthere, as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars hadsucceeded in setting it on fire and the French batteries were nowfiring at them, no longer to hinder them but because the guns weretrained and there was someone to fire at.

　　The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before thehussars got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shotwent too high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group ofhussars and knocked three of them over.

　　Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused onthe bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as hehad always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire thebridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him likethe other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he hearda rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussarnearest to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up tohim with the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four menseized the hussar and began lifting him.

　　"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, butstill he was lifted and laid on the stretcher.

　　Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something,gazed into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky,and at the sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm,and how deep! How bright and glorious was the setting sun! With whatsoft glitter the waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairerstill were the faraway blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery,the mysterious gorges, and the pine forests veiled in the mist oftheir summits... There was peace and happiness... "I should wishingfor nothing else, nothing, if only I were there," thought Rostov."In myself alone and in that sunshine there is so much happiness;but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this uncertainty and hurry...There- they are shouting again, and again are all running backsomewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is here aboveme and around... Another instant and I shall never again see thesun, this water, that gorge!..."

　　At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and otherstretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death andof the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged intoone feeling of sickening agitation.

　　"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protectme!" Rostov whispered.

　　The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; theirvoices sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared fromsight.

　　"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov justabove his ear.

　　"It's all over; but I am a coward- yes, a coward!" thought Rostov,and sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting onefoot, from the orderly and began to mount.

　　"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov.

　　"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicksand it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at thedogs! But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shootingat you like a target."

　　And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov,composed of the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer fromthe suite.

　　"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And thiswas true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensationwhich the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced.

　　"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if Idon't get promoted to a sublieutenancy."

　　"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the coloneltriumphantly and gaily.

　　"And if he asks about the losses?"

　　"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussarswounded, and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happysmile, and pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringingdistinctness.