Book Two: 1805 - Chapter XV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, whohad persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth andreported himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yetreached Murat's detachment and the battle had not yet begun. InBagration's detachment no one knew anything of the general position ofaffairs. They talked of peace but did not believe in itspossibility; others talked of a battle but also disbelieved in thenearness of an engagement. Bagration, knowing Bolkonski to be afavorite and trusted adjutant, received him with distinction andspecial marks of favor, explaining to him that there would probably bean engagement that day or the next, and giving him full liberty toremain with him during the battle or to join the rearguard and have aneye on the order of retreat, "which is also very important."

　　"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," saidBagration as if to reassure Prince Andrew.

　　"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn amedal he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if hewishes to stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's abrave officer," thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying,asked the prince's permission to ride round the position to see thedisposition of the forces, so as to know his bearings should he besent to execute an order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantlydressed man with a diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond ofspeaking French though he spoke it badly, offered to conduct PrinceAndrew.

　　On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces whoseemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors,benches, and fencing from the village.

　　"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staffofficer pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them inhand. And there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in andsit. This morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again.I must go there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take amoment."

　　"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese,"said Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything.

　　"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered yousomething."

　　They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushedand weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking.

　　"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in thereproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more thanonce. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. Theprince gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you,Captain," and he turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officerwho without his boots (he had given them to the canteen keeper todry), in only his stockings, rose when they entered, smiling notaltogether comfortably.

　　"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" hecontinued. "One would think that as an artillery officer you would seta good example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will besounded and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (Thestaff officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all ofyou, all!" he added in a tone of command.

　　Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artilleryofficer Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockingedfoot to the other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent,kindly eyes from Prince Andrew to the staff officer.

　　"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said CaptainTushin smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidentlywishing to adopt a jocular tone. But before he had finished he feltthat his jest was unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused.

　　"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying topreserve his gravity.

　　Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure.There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rathercomic, but extremely attractive.

　　The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rodeon.

　　Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtakingsoldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their leftsome entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of whichshowed up red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirtsleeves despite the cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a hostof white ants; spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrownup from behind the bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officerrode up, looked at the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind itthey came upon some dozens of soldiers, continually replaced byothers, who ran from the entrenchment. They had to hold their nosesand put their horses to a trot to escape from the poisonedatmosphere of these latrines.

　　"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince,"* said the staffofficer.

　　*"This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince."

　　They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French couldalready be seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining theposition.

　　"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating thehighest point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw withouthis boots. You can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince."

　　"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew,wishing to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "pleasedon't trouble yourself further."

　　The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone.

　　The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderlyand cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression hadbeen in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim roadseven miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension andalarm could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the Frenchlines the more confident was the appearance of our troops. Thesoldiers in their greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants majorand company officers were counting the men, poking the last man ineach section in the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiersscattered over the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood andwere building shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around thefires sat others, dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and legbands or mending boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers andporridge cookers. In one company dinner was ready, and the soldierswere gazing eagerly at the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample,which a quartermaster sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to anofficer who sat on a log before his shelter, had been tasted.

　　Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka,crowded round a pock-marked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who,tilting a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out tohim. The soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips withreverential faces, emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths,and walked away from the sergeant major with brightened expressions,licking their lips and wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats.All their faces were as serene as if all this were happening at homeawaiting peaceful encampment, and not within sight of the enemy beforean action in which at least half of them would be left on the field.After passing a chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kievgrenadiers- fine fellows busy with similar peaceful affairs- nearthe shelter of the regimental commander, higher than and differentfrom the others, Prince Andrew came out in front of a platoon ofgrenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him whiletwo others were flourishing their switches and striking himregularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A stoutmajor was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the screamskept repeating:

　　"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest,honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honorin him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!"

　　So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate butunnatural screams, continued.

　　"Go on, go on!" said the major.

　　A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on hisface stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at theadjutant as he rode by.

　　Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Ourfront line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right andleft flanks, but in the center where the men with a flag of trucehad passed that morning, the lines were so near together that themen could see one another's faces and speak to one another. Besidesthe soldiers who formed the picket line on either side, there weremany curious onlookers who, jesting and laughing, stared at theirstrange foreign enemies.

　　Since early morning- despite an injunction not to approach thepicket line- the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away.The soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting acuriosity, no longer looked at the French but paid attention to thesight-seers and grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrewhalted to have a look at the French.

　　"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to aRussian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officerand was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Harkto him jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do tokeep up with him. There now, Sidorov!"

　　"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who wasconsidered an adept at French.

　　The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. PrinceAndrew recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying.Dolokhov had come from the left flank where their regiment wasstationed, with his captain.

　　"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward andtrying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensibleto him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?"

　　Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hotdispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking aboutthe campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with theRussians, was trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered andhad fled all the way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that theRussians had not surrendered but had beaten the French.

　　"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive youoff," said Dolokhov.

　　"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" saidthe French grenadier.

　　The French onlookers and listeners laughed.

　　"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...,"* said Dolokhov.

　　*"On vous fera danser."

　　"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?"* asked a Frenchman.

　　*"What's he singing about?"

　　"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to aformer war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught theothers..."

　　"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him.

　　"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily.

　　"The devil skin your Emperor."

　　And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian andshouldering his musket walked away.

　　"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain.

　　"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now,Sidorov, you have a try!"

　　Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabbermeaningless sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter,Kaska," he said, trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice.

　　"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthyand good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected theFrench involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemedto be to unload the muskets, muskets, explode the ammunition, andall return home as quickly as possible.

　　But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses andentrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannonconfronted one another as before.