战争与和平(上)-第196章

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The　redoubt　consisted　of　a　mound；　with　trenches　dug　out　on　three　sides　of　it。　In　the　entrenchments　stood　ten　cannons；　firing　through　the　gaps　left　in　the　earthworks。
In　a　line　with　the　redoubt　on　both　sides　stood　cannons；　and　these　too　kept　up　an　incessant　fire。　A　little　behind　the　line　of　cannons　were　troops　of　infantry。　When　Pierre　ascended　this　mound；　he　had　no　notion　that　this　place；　encircled　by　small　trenches　and　protected　by　a　few　cannons；　was　the　most　important　spot　in　the　field。
He　fancied；　indeed　（simply　because　he　happened　to　be　there）；　that　it　was　a　place　of　no　importance　whatever。
Pierre　sat　down　on　the　end　of　the　earthwork　surrounding　the　battery　and　gazed　at　what　was　passing　around　him　with　an　unconscious　smile　of　pleasure。　At　intervals　Pierre　got　up；　and　with　the　same　smile　on　his　face　walked　about　the　battery；　trying　not　to　get　in　the　way　of　the　soldiers；　who　were　loading　and　discharging　the　cannons　and　were　continually　running　by　him　with　bags　and　ammunition。　The　cannons　were　firing　continually；　one　after　another；　with　deafening　uproar；　enveloping　all　the　country　round　in　clouds　of　smoke。
In　contrast　to　the　painful　look　of　dread　in　the　infantry　soldiers　who　were　guarding　the　battery；　here　in　the　battery　itself；　where　a　limited　number　of　men　were　busily　engaged　in　their　work；　and　shut　off　from　the　rest　of　the　trench；　there　was　a　general　feeling　of　eager　excitement；　a　sort　of　family　feeling　shared　by　all　alike。
The　appearance　of　Pierre’s　unmartial　figure　and　his　white　hat　at　first　impressed　this　little　group　unfavourably。　The　soldiers　cast　sidelong　glances　of　surprise　and　even　alarm　at　him；　as　they　ran　by。　The　senior　artillery　officer；　a　tall；　long…legged；　pock…marked　man；　approached　Pierre；　as　though　he　wanted　to　examine　the　action　of　the　cannon　at　the　end；　and　stared　inquisitively　at　him。
A　boyish；　round…faced；　little　officer；　quite　a　child；　evidently　only　just　out　of　the　cadets’　school；　and　very　conscientious　in　looking　after　the　two　cannons　put　in　his　charge；　addressed　Pierre　severely。
“Permit　me　to　ask　you　to　move　out　of　the　way；　sir；”　he　said。　“You　can’t　stay　here。”
The　soldiers　shook　their　heads　disapprovingly　as　they　looked　at　Pierre。　But　as　the　conviction　gained　ground　among　them　that　the　man　in　the　white　hat　was　doing　no　harm；　and　either　sat　quietly　on　the　slope　of　the　earthwork；　or；　making　way　with　a　shy　and　courteous　smile　for　the　soldiers　to　pass；　walked　about　the　battery　under　fire　as　calmly　as　though　he　were　strolling　on　a　boulevard；　their　feeling　of　suspicious　ill…will　began　to　give　way　to　a　playful　and　kindly　cordiality　akin　to　the　feeling　soldiers　always　have　for　the　dogs；　cocks；　goats；　and　other　animals　who　share　the　fortunes　of　the　regiment。　The　soldiers　soon　accepted　Pierre　in　their　own　minds　as　one　of　their　little　circle；　made　him　one　of　themselves；　and　gave　him　a　name：　“our　gentleman”　they　called　him；　and　laughed　good…humouredly　about　him　among　themselves。
A　cannon　ball　tore　up　the　earth　a　couple　of　paces　from　Pierre。　Brushing　the　earth　off　his　clothes；　he　looked　about　him　with　a　smile。
“And　how　is　it　you’re　not　afraid；　sir；　upon　my　word？”　said　a　broad；　red…faced　soldier；　showing　his　strong；　white　teeth　in　a　grin。
“Why；　are　you　afraid　then？”　asked　Pierre。
“Why；　to　be　sure！”　answered　the　soldier。　“Why；　she　has　no　mercy　on　you。　She　smashes　into　you；　and　your　guts　are　sent　flying。　Nobody　could　help　being　afraid；”　he　said　laughing。
Several　soldiers　stood　still　near　Pierre　with　amused　and　kindly　faces。　They　seemed　not　to　expect　him　to　talk　like　any　one　else；　and　his　doing　so　delighted　them。
“It’s　our　business—we’re　soldiers。　But　for　a　gentleman—it’s　surprising。　It’s　queer　in　a　gentleman！”
“To　your　places！”　cried　the　little　officer…boy　to　the　soldiers；　who　had　gathered　round　Pierre。　It　was　evidently　the　first；　or　at　most；　the　second　time；　this　lad　had　been　on　duty　as　an　officer；　and　so　he　behaved　with　the　utmost　punctiliousness　and　formality　both　to　the　soldiers　and　his　superior　officer。
The　roar　of　cannon　and　the　rattle　of　musketry　were　growing　louder　all　over　the　field；　especially　on　the　left；　where　Bagration’s　earthworks　were；　but　from　where　Pierre　was；　hardly　anything　could　be　seen　for　the　smoke。　Moreover；　watching　the　little　fraternal　group　of　men；　shut　off　from　all　the　world　on　the　battery；　engrossed　all　Pierre’s　attention。　His　first　unconscious　delight　in　the　sights　and　sounds　of　the　battlefield　had　given　way　to　another　feeling；　ever　since　he　had　seen　the　solitary　dead　soldier　lying　on　the　hayfield。　Sitting　now　on　the　slope　of　the　earthwork；　he　watched　the　figures　moving　about　him。
By　ten　o’clock　some　twenty　men　had　been　carried　away　from　the　battery；　two　cannons　had　been　disabled；　and　more　and　more　frequently　shells　fell　on　the　battery；　and　cannon　balls　came　with　a　hiss　and　whir；　flying　out　of　the　distance。　But　the　men　on　the　battery　did　not　seem　to　notice　this：　merry　chatter　and　jokes　were　to　be　heard　on　all　sides。
“Not　this　way；　my　pretty；”　shouted　a　soldier　to　a　grenade　that　came　whistling　towards　them。
“Give　the　infantry　a　turn！”　another　added　with　a　chuckle；　as　the　grenade　flew　across　and　fell　among　the　ranks　of　the　infantry。
“What；　see　a　friend　coming；　do　you？”　another　soldier　jeered　at　a　peasant；　who　had　ducked　low　at　the　sight　of　a　flying　cannon　ball。
Several　soldiers　gathered　together　at　the　earthwork；　looking　at　what　was　being　done　in　front。
“And　they’ve　taken　the　outposts；　see；　they’re　retreating；”　they　said；　pointing　over　the　earthwork。
“Mind　your　own　business；”　the　old　sergeant　shouted　to　them。　“If　they　have　come　back；　it’s　because　they　have　something　to　do　further　back。”　And　the　sergeant；　taking　one　of　the　soldiers　by　the　shoulder；　gave　him　a　shove　with　his　knee。　There　was　the　sound　of　laughter
“Fifth　cannon；　roll　away！”　they　were　shouting　on　one　side。
“Now　then；　a　good　pull；　all　together！”　shouted　the　merry　voices　of　the　men　charging　the　cannon。
“Ay；　she　almost　snatched　‘our　gentleman’s’　hat　off；”　the　red…faced；　jocose　soldier　laughed；　showing　his　teeth。　“Hey；　awkward　hussy！”　he　added　reproachfully　to　a　cannon　ball　that　hit　a　wheel　and　a　man’s　leg。　“Now；　you　foxes　there！”　laughed　another；　addressing　the　peasant　militiamen；　who　were　creeping　in　and　out　among　the　guns　after　the　wounded。　“Don’t　you　care　for　our　porridge；　hey？　Ah；　the　crows！　that　pulls　them　up！”　they　shouted　at　the　militiamen；　who　hesitated　at　the　sight　of　the　soldier　whose　leg　had　been　torn　off。　“Oo　…　oo　…　lad；”　they　cried；　mimicking　the　peasants；　“we　don’t　like　it　at　all；　we　don’t！”
Pierre　noticed　that　after　every　ball　that　fell　in　their　midst；　after　every　loss；　the　general　elation　became　more　and　more　marked。
The　closer　the　storm　cloud　swooped　down　upon　them；　the　more　bright　and　frequent　were　the　gleams　of　latent　fire　that　glowed　like　lightning　flashes　on　those　men’s　faces；　called　up；　as　it　were；　to　meet　and　resist　their　danger。
Pierre　did　not　look　in　front　at　the　field　of　battle；　he　took　no　more　interest　in　what　was　going　on　there。　He　was　entirely　engrossed　in　the　contemplation　of　that　growing　fire；　which　he　felt　was　burning　in　his　own　soul　too。
At　ten　o’clock　the　infantry；　who　had　been　in　advance　of　the　battery　in　the　bushes　and　about　the　stream　Kamenka；　retreated。　From　the　battery　they　could　see　them　running　back　past　them；　bearing　their　wounded　on　their　guns。　A　general　with　a　suite　came　on　to　the　redoubt；　and　after　talking　to　the　colonel　and　looking　angrily　at　Pierre；　went　away　again；　ordering　the　infantry　standing　behind　the　battery　guarding　it　to　lie　down；　so　as　to　be　less　exposed　to　fire。　After　that　a　drum　was　heard　in　the　ranks　of　the　infantry；　more　to　the　right　of　the　battery；　and　shouts　gave　the　word　of　command；　and　from　the　battery　they　could　see　the　ranks　of　infantry　moving　forward。
Pierre　looked　over　the　earthwork。　One　figure　particularly　caught　his　eye。　It　was　the　officer；　walking　backwards　with　a　pale；　boyish　face。　He　held　his　sword　downwards　and　kept　looking　uneasily　round。
The　rows　of　infantry　soldiers　vanished　into　the　smoke；　but　they　could　hear　a　prolonged　shout　from　them　and　a　rapid　musketry　fire。　A　few　minutes　later　crowds　of　wounded　men　and　a　number　of　stretchers　came　back　from　that　direction。　Shells　fell　more　and　more　often　in　the　battery。　Several　men　lay　on　the　ground；　not　picked　up。　The　soldiers　bustled　more　busily　and　briskly　than　ever　about　the　cannons。　No　one　took　any　notice　of　Pierre　now。　Twice　he　was　shouted　at　angrily　for　being　in　the　way。　The　senior　officers　strode　rapidly　from　one　cannon　to　another　with　a　frowning　face。　The　officer…boy；　his　cheeks　even　more　crimson；　gave　the　soldiers　their　orders　more　scrupulously　than　ever。　The　soldiers　served　out　the　charges；　turned　round；　loaded；　and　did　all　their　work　with　exaggerated　smartness。　They　moved　as　though　worked　by　springs。
The　storm　cloud　was　swooping　closer；　and　more　brightly　than　ever　glowed　in　every　face　that　fire　which　Pierre　was　watching。　He　was　standing　near　the　senior　officer。　The　little　officer…boy　ran　up；　his　hand　to　his　shako；　saluting　his　superior　officer。
“I　have　the　honour　to　inform　you；　colonel；　only　eight　charges　are　left；　do　you　command　to　continue　firing？”　he　asked。
“Grapeshot！”　the　senior　officer　shouted；　looking　away　over　the　earthwork。
Suddenly　something　happened；　the　boy…officer　groaned；　and　whirling　round　sat　down　on　the　ground；　like　a　bird　shot　on　the　wing。　All　seemed　strange；　indistinct；　and　darkened　before　Pierre’s　eyes。
One　after　another　the　cannon　balls　came　whistling；　striking　the　breastwork；　the　soldiers；　the　cannons。　Pierre；　who　had　scarcely　heard　those　sounds　before；　now　could　hear　nothing　else。　On　the　right　side　of　the　battery；　soldiers；　with　shouts　of　“hurrah；”　were　running；　not　forward；　it　seemed　to　Pierre；　but　back。
A　cannon　ball　struck　the　very　edge　of　the　earthwork；　before　which　Pierre　was　sitting；　and　sent　the　earth　flying；　a　dark；　round　mass　flashed　just　before　his　eyes；　and　at　the　same　instant　flew　with　a　thud　into　something。　The　militiamen；　who　had　been　coming　into　the　battery；　ran　back。
“All　with　grapeshot！”　shouted　the　officer。
The　sergeant　ran　up　to　the　officer；　and　in　a　frightened　whisper　（just　as　at　a　dinner　the　butler　will　sometimes　tell　the　host　that　there　is　no　more　of　some　wine　asked　for）　said　that　there　were　no　more　charges。
“The　scoundrels；　what　are　they　about？”　shouted　the　officer；　turning　to　Pierre。　The　senior　officer’s　face　was　red　and　perspiring；　his　piercing　eyes　glittered。　“Run　to　the　reserves；　bring　the　ammunition…boxes！”　he　shouted　angrily；　avoiding　Pierre　with　his　eyes；　and　addressing　the　soldier。
“I’ll　go；”　said　Pierre。　The　officer；　making　no　reply；　strode　across　to　the　other　side。
“Cease　firing　…　Wait！”　he　shouted。
The　soldier　who　had　been　commanded　to　go　for　the　ammunition　ran　against　Pierre。
“Ah；　sir；　it’s　no　place　for　you　here；”　he　said；　as　he　ran　away。
Pierre　ran　after　the　soldier；　avoiding　the　spot　where　the　boy…officer　was　sitting。
One　cannon　ball；　a　second　and　a　third　flew　over　him；　hitting　the　ground　in　front；　on　each　side；　behind　Pierre　as　he　ran　down。　“Where　am　I　going？”　he　suddenly　wondered；　just　as　he　ran　up　to　the　green　ammunition…boxes。　He　stopped　short　in　uncertainty　whether　to　go　back　or　forward。　Suddenly　a　fearful　shock　sen