战争与和平(上)-第195章

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site　on　to　the　dew…drenched　dust　of　the　road；　on　to　the　fences　and　the　windows　of　the　houses；　and　Pierre’s　horses　standing　by　the　cottage。　The　roar　of　the　cannon　could　be　heard　more　distinctly　in　the　open　air。　An　adjutant　galloped　down　the　street；　followed　by　a　Cossack。
“It’s　time；　count；　it’s　time！”　cried　the　adjutant。　Pierre　gave　orders　that　he　should　be　followed　with　a　horse；　and　walked　along　the　street　to　the　knoll　from　which　he　had　viewed　the　field　of　battle　the　day　before。　On　this　knoll　was　a　crowd　of　officers；　and　Pierre　heard　the　French　chatter　of　the　staff；　and　saw　Kutuzov’s　grey　head　sunk　in　his　shoulders；　and　his　white　cap；　with　red　braiding　on　it。　Kutuzov　was　looking　through　a　field…glass　along　the　high…road　before　him。
Mounting　the　steps　of　the　approach　to　the　mound；　Pierre　glanced　before　him；　and　felt　a　thrill　of　delight　at　the　beauty　of　the　spectacle。　It　was　the　same　scene　that　he　had　admired　from　that　mound　the　day　before。　But　now　the　whole　panorama　was　filled　with　troops　and　the　smoke　of　the　guns；　and　in　the　pure　morning　air　the　slanting　rays　of　the　sun；　behind　Pierre　on　the　left；　shed　on　it　a　brilliant　light　full　of　gold　and　pink　tones；　and　broken　up　by　long；　dark　shadows。　The　distant　forests　that　bounded　the　scene　lay　in　a　crescent　on　the　horizon；　looking　as　though　carved　out　of　some　precious　yellow…green　stone；　and　through　their　midst　behind　Valuev　ran　the　great　Smolensk　road；　all　covered　with　troops。　In　the　foreground　lay　golden　fields　and　copses　glittering　in　the　sun。　Everywhere；　to　right；　to　left；　and　in　front　were　soldiers。　The　whole　scene　was　inspiriting；　impressive；　and　unexpected；　but　what　struck　Pierre　most　of　all　was　the　aspect　of　the　field　of　battle　itself；　of　Borodino；　and　the　hollow　on　both　sides　of　the　Kolotcha。
About　the　Kolotcha；　in　Borodino；　and　both　sides　of　it；　especially　to　the　left　where　the　Voina　runs　through　swampy　ground　into　the　Kolotcha；　a　mist　still　hung　over　the　scene；　melting；　parting；　shimmering　with　light　in　the　bright　sunshine；　and　giving　fairy…like　beauty　to　the　shapes　seen　through　it。　The　smoke　of　the　guns　mingled　with　this　mist；　and　everywhere　gleams　of　sunlight　sparkled　in　it　from　the　water；　from　the　dew；　from　the　bayonets　of　the　soldiers　crowding　on　the　river　banks　and　in　Borodino。　Through　this　mist　could　be　seen　a　white　church；　here　and　there　roofs　of　cottages　in　Borodino；　and　fitful　glimpses　came　of　compact　masses　of　soldiers；　and　green　ammunition…boxes　and　cannons。　And　the　whole　scene　moved；　or　seemed　to　move；　as　the　mist　and　smoke　trailed　over　the　wide　plain。　In　this　low　ground　about　Borodino　in　the　mist；　and　above　it；　and　especially　along　the　whole　line　to　the　left；　in　the　copses；　in　the　meadows　below；　and　on　the　tops　of　the　heights；　clouds　of　smoke　were　incessantly　springing　out　of　nothing；　now　singly；　now　several　at　once；　then　at　longer　intervals；　then　in　rapid　succession。　These　clouds　of　smoke；　puffing；　rolling；　melting　into　one　another；　and　sundering　apart；　trailed　all　across　the　wide　plain。　These　puffs　of　smoke；　and　the　reports　that　followed　them；　were；　strange　to　say；　what　gave　the　chief　charm　to　the　scene。
“Poooff！”　suddenly　there　flew　up　a　round；　compact　ball　of　smoke；　with　shades　of　purple；　grey；　and　milk…white　in　it；　and　“booom！”　followed　the　roar　of　the　cannon　a　minute　later。
“Pooff…pooff！”　two　clouds　of　smoke　rose；　meeting　and　mingling　into　one；　and　“boom…boom；”　the　sound　repeated　what　the　eye　had　seen。
Pierre　looked　round　at　the　first　puff　of　smoke；　which　he　had　seen　a　second　before　a　round；　compact　ball；　and　already　in　its　place　were　wreaths　of　smoke　trailing　away　to　one　side；　and　“pooff”…（then　a　pause）　“pooff…pooff”—three　more　flew　up；　and　another　four　at　once；　and　at　the　same　intervals　after　each　other　“boom…boom…boom…boom；”　rang　out　the　sonorous；　resolute；　unfailing　sounds。　At　one　moment　it　seemed　that　those　clouds　of　smoke　were　scudding　across　the　plain；　at　the　next；　that　they　were　stationary；　and　the　copses；　fields；　and　glittering　bayonets　were　flying　by　them。　From　the　left　side　these　great　clouds　of　smoke　were　incessantly　flying　over　the　fields　and　bushes；　with　the　stately　roar　resounding　after　each　of　them。　Still　nearer；　in　the　low　meadows　and　copses；　there　darted　up　from　the　musket…fire　tiny　puffs　that　hardly　formed　into　balls　of　smoke；　and　each　of　these；　too；　had　its　tiny　report　echoing　after　it。　Tra…ta…ta…ta　sounded　the　crack　of　the　muskets　at　frequent　intervals；　but　thin　and　irregular　in　comparison　with　the　rhythmic　roar　of　the　cannon。
Pierre　longed　to　be　there　in　the　midst　of　the　smoke；　the　glittering　bayonets；　the　movement；　and　the　noise。　He　looked　round　at　Kutuzov　and　his　suite　to　compare　his　own　impression　with　that　of　others。　All　like　him　were　looking　before　them　at　the　field；　and；　he　fancied；　with　the　same　feeling。　Every　face　now　was　lighted　up　by　that　latent　heat　of　feeling　that　Pierre　had　noticed　the　day　before；　and　understood　perfectly　after　his　talk　with　Prince　Andrey。
“Go；　my　dear　fellow；　go；　and　Christ　be　with　you！”　said　Kutuzov；　never　taking　his　eyes　off　the　field　of　battle；　to　a　general　standing　beside　him。　The　general；　who　received　this　order；　ran　by　Pierre　down　the　descent　from　the　mound。
“To　ride　across！…”　the　general　said　coldly　and　severely；　in　answer　to　a　question　from　one　of　the　staff。
“And　I　too；　I　too；”　thought　Pierre；　and　he　went　in　the　same　direction。
The　general　mounted　a　horse；　led　up　to　him　by　a　Cossack。　Pierre　went　up　to　the　groom；　who　was　holding　his　horses。　Asking　him　which　was　the　quietest；　Pierre　got　on　it；　clutched　at　the　horse’s　mane；　pressed　his　heels　into　the　beast’s　stomach；　and　feeling　that　his　spectacles　were　slipping　off；　and　that　he　was　incapable　of　letting　go　of　the　mane　and　the　reins；　he　galloped　after　the　general；　followed　by　smiles　from　the　staff　officers　staring　at　him　from　the　mound。


Chapter　31
THE　GENERAL　after　whom　Pierre　galloped　trotted　downhill；　turned　off　sharply　to　the　left；　and　Pierre；　losing　sight　of　him；　galloped　into　the　middle　of　a　battalion　of　infantry　marching　ahead　of　him。　He　tried　to　get　away　from　them；　turning　to　left　and　to　right；　but　there　were　soldiers　everywhere；　all　with　the　same　anxious　faces；　preoccupied　with　some　unseen；　but　evidently　serious；　business。　They　all　looked　with　the　same　expression　of　annoyed　inquiry　at　the　stout　man　in　the　white　hat；　who　was；　for　some　unknown　reason；　trampling　them　under　his　horse’s　feet。
“What　does　he　want　to　ride　into　the　middle　of　a　battalion　for？”　one　man　shouted　at　him。　Another　gave　his　horse　a　shove　with　the　butt…end　of　his　gun；　and　Pierre；　leaning　over　on　the　saddle…bow；　and　scarcely　able　to　hold　in　his　rearing　horse；　galloped　out　to　where　there　was　open　space　in　front　of　the　soldiers。
Ahead　of　him　he　saw　a　bridge；　and　at　the　bridge　stood　the　soldiers　firing。　Pierre　rode　towards　them。　Though　he　did　not　know　it；　he　rode　up　to　the　bridge　over　the　Kolotcha；　between　Gorky　and　Borodino；　which　was　attacked　by　the　French　in　one　of　the　first　actions。　Pierre　saw　there　was　a　bridge　in　front　of　him；　and　that　the　soldiers　were　doing　something　in　the　smoke　on　both　sides　of　the　bridge；　and　in　the　meadow　among　the　new…mown　hay　he　had　noticed　the　day　before。　But　in　spite　of　the　unceasing　fire　going　on　there；　he　had　no　notion　that　this　was　the　very　centre　of　the　battle。　He　did　not　notice　the　bullets　whizzing　on　all　sides；　and　the　shells　flying　over　him；　he　did　not　see　the　enemy　on　the　other　side　of　the　river；　and　it　was　a　long　time　before　he　saw　the　killed　and　wounded；　though　many　fell　close　to　him。　He　gazed　about　him　with　a　smile　still　on　his　face。
“What’s　that　fellow　doing　in　front　of　the　line？”　some　one　shouted　at　him　again。
“To　the　left；”　“to　the　right；”　men　shouted　to　him。　Pierre　turned　to　the　right；　and　unwittingly　rode　up　to　an　adjutant　of　General　Raevsky’s；　with　whom　he　was　acquainted。　The　adjutant　glanced　wrathfully　at　Pierre；　and　he；　too；　was　apparently　about　to　shout　at　him；　but　recognising　him；　he　nodded。
“How　did　you　come　here？”　he　said；　and　galloped　on。　Pierre；　feeling　out　of　place　and　of　no　use；　and　afraid　of　getting　in　some　one’s　way　again；　galloped　after　him。
“What　is　it；　here？　Can　I　go　with　you？”　he　asked。
“In　a　minute；　in　a　minute；”　answered　the　adjutant；　and　galloping　up　to　a　stout　colonel　in　the　meadow；　he　gave　him　some　message；　and　then　addressed　Pierre。　“What　has　brought　you　here；　count？”　he　said　to　him；　with　a　smile。　“Are　you　still　curious？”
“Yes；　yes；”　said　Pierre。　But　the　adjutant；　turning　his　horse’s　head；　rode　on　further。
“Here　it’s　all　right；”　said　the　adjutant；　“but　on　the　left　flank；　in　Bagration’s　division；　it’s　fearfully　hot。”
“Really？”　said　Pierre。　“Where’s　that？”
“Why；　come　along　with　me　to　the　mound；　we　can　get　a　view　from　there。　But　it’s　still　bearable　at　our　battery；”　said　the　adjutant。　“Are　you　coming？”
“Yes；　yes；　I’ll　go　with　you；”　said　Pierre；　looking　about　him；　trying　to　see　his　groom。　It　was　only　then　for　the　first　time　that　Pierre　saw　wounded　men；　staggering　along　and　some　borne　on　stretchers。　In　the　meadow　with　the　rows　of　sweet…scented　hay；　through　which　he　had　ridden　the　day　before；　there　lay　motionless　across　the　rows　one　soldier　with　his　shako　off；　and　his　head　thrown　awkwardly　back。　“And　why　haven’t　they　taken　that　one？”　Pierre　was　beginning；　but　seeing　the　adjutant’s　set　face　looking　in　the　same　direction；　he　was　silent。
Pierre　did　not　succeed　in　finding　his　groom；　and　rode　along　the　hollow　with　the　adjutant　towards　Raevsky’s　redoubt。　His　horse　dropped　behind　the　adjutant’s；　and　jolted　him　at　regular　intervals。
“You　are　not　used　to　riding；　count；　I　fancy？”　asked　the　adjutant。
“Oh　no；　it’s　all　right；　but　it　does　seem　to　be　hopping　along　somehow；”　said　Pierre；　with　a　puzzled　look。
“Ay！　…　but　he’s　wounded；”　said　the　adjutant；　“the　right　fore…leg　above　the　knee。　A　bullet；　it　must　have　been。　I　congratulate　you；　count；”　he　said；　“you　have　had　your　baptism　of　fire　now。”
After　passing　in　the　smoke　through　the　sixth　corps　behind　the　artillery；　which　had　been　moved　forward　and　was　keeping　up　a　deafening　cannonade；　they　rode　into　a　small　copse。　There　it　was　cool　and　still　and　full　of　the　scents　of　autumn。　Pierre　and　the　adjutant　got　off　their　horses　and　walked　on　foot　up　the　hill。
“Is　the　general　here？”　asked　the　adjutant　on　reaching　the　redoubt。
“He　was　here　just　now；　he　went　this　way；”　some　one　answered；　pointing　to　the　right。
The　adjutant　looked　round　at　Pierre；　as　though　he　did　not　know　what　to　do　with　him。
“Don’t　trouble　about　me；”　said　Pierre。　“I’ll　go　up　on　to　the　mound；　may　I？”
“Yes；　do；　you　can　see　everything　from　there；　and　it’s　not　so　dangerous；　and　I　will　come　to　fetch　you。”
Pierre　went　up　to　the　battery；　and　the　adjutant　rode　away。　They　did　not　see　each　other　again；　and　only　much　later　Pierre　learned　that　that　adjutant　had　lost　an　arm　on　that　day。
The　mound—afterwards　known　among　the　Russians　as　the　battery　mound；　or　Raevsky’s　battery；　and　among　the　French　as　“the　great　redoubt；”　“fatal　redoubt；”　and　“central　redoubt”—was　the　celebrated　spot　at　which　tens　of　thousands　of　men　were　killed；　and　upon　which　the　French　looked　as　the　key　of　the　position。
The　redoubt　consisted　of　a　mound；　with　trenches　dug　out　on　three　sides　of　it。　In　the　entrenchments　stood　ten　cannons