战争与和平(上)-第250章

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“Filez；　filez！”　the　captain　was　saying；　frowning　sternly；　and　looking　at　the　prisoners　crowding　by　him。
Pierre　knew　his　effort　would　be　in　vain；　yet　he　went　up　to　him。
“Well；　what　is　it？”　said　the　officer；　scanning　him　coldly；　as　though　he　did　not　recognise　him。　Pierre　spoke　of　the　sick　prisoner。
“He　can　walk；　damn　him！”　said　the　captain。
“Filez；　filez！”　he　went　on；　without　looking　at　Pierre。
“Well；　no；　he　is　in　agony…！”　Pierre　was　beginning。
“Voulez…vous　bien？”…shouted　the　captain；　scowling　malignantly。
“Dram…da…da…dam；　dam…dam；”　rattled　the　drums；　and　Pierre　knew　that　the　mysterious　force　had　already　complete　possession　of　those　men；　and　that　to　say　anything　more　now　was　useless。
The　officers　among　the　prisoners　were　separated　from　the　soldiers　and　ordered　to　march　in　front。
The　officers；　among　whom　was　Pierre；　were　thirty　in　number；　the　soldiers　three　hundred。
These　officers；　who　had　come　out　of　other　sheds；　were　all　strangers　to　Pierre；　and　much　better　dressed　than　he　was。　They　looked　at　him　in　his　queer　foot…gear　with　aloof　and　mistrustful　eyes。　Not　far　from　Pierre　walked　a　stout　major；　with　a　fat；　sallow；　irascible　countenance。　He　was　dressed　in　a　Kazan　gown；　girt　with　a　linen　band；　and　obviously　enjoyed　the　general　respect　of　his　companion　prisoners。　He　held　his　tobacco…pouch　in　one　hand　thrust　into　his　bosom；　with　the　other　he　pressed　the　stem　of　his　pipe。　This　major；　panting　and　puffing；　grumbled　angrily　at　every　one　for　pushing　against　him；　as　he　fancied；　and　for　hurrying　when　there　was　no　need　of　hurry；　and　for　wondering　when　there　was　nothing　to　wonder　at。　Another；　a　thin；　little　officer；　addressed　remarks　to　every　one；　making　conjectures　where　they　were　being　taken　now；　and　how　far　they　would　go　that　day。　An　official；　in　felt　high　boots　and　a　commissariat　uniform；　ran　from　side　to　side　to　get　a　good　view　of　the　results　of　the　fire　in　Moscow；　making　loud　observations　on　what　was　burnt；　and　saying　what　this　or　that　district　of　the　town　was　as　it　came　into　view。　A　third　officer；　of　Polish　extraction　by　his　accent；　was　arguing　with　the　commissariat　official；　trying　to　prove　to　him　that　he　was　mistaken　in　his　identification　of　the　various　quarters　of　Moscow。
“Why　dispute？”　said　the　major　angrily。　“Whether　it’s　St。　Nikola　or　St。　Vlas；　it’s　no　matter。　You　see　that　it’s　all　burnt；　and　that’s　all　about　it。　…Why　are　you　pushing；　isn’t　the　road　wide　enough？”　he　said；　angrily　addressing　a　man　who　had　passed　behind　him　and　had　not　pushed　against　him　at　all。
“Aie；　aie；　aie；　what　have　they　been　doing？”　the　voices　of　the　prisoners　could　be　heard　crying　on　one　side　and　on　another　as　they　looked　at　the　burnt　districts。　“Zamoskvoryetche；　too；　and　Zubovo；　and　in　the　Kremlin。…Look；　there’s　not　half　left。　Why；　didn’t　I　tell　you　all　Zamoskvoryetche　was　gone；　and　so　it　is。”
“Well；　you　know　it　is　burnt；　well；　why　argue　about　it？”　said　the　major。
Passing　through　Hamovniky　（one　of　the　few　quarters　of　Moscow　that　had　not　been　burnt）　by　the　church；　the　whole　crowd　of　prisoners　huddled　suddenly　on　one　side；　and　exclamations　of　horror　and　aversion　were　heard。
“The　wretches！　The　heathens！　Yes；　a　dead　man；　a　dead　man；　it　is…They　have　smeared　it　with　something。”
Pierre；　too；　drew　near　the　church；　where　was　the　object　that　had　called　forth　these　exclamations；　and　he　dimly　discerned　something　leaning　against　the　fence　of　the　church　enclosure。　From　the　words　of　his　companions；　who　saw　better　than　he　did；　he　learnt　that　it　was　the　dead　body　of　a　man；　propped　up　in　a　standing　posture　by　the　fence；　with　the　face　smeared　with　soot。
“Move　on；　damn　you！　Go　on；　thirty　thousand　devils！”…They　heard　the　escort　swearing；　and　the　French　soldiers；　with　fresh　vindictiveness；　used　the　flat　sides　of　their　swords　to　drive　on　the　prisoners；　who　had　lingered　to　look　at　the　dead　man。


Chapter　14
THROUGH　THE　LANES　of　Hamovniky；　the　prisoners　marched　alone　with　their　escort；　a　train　of　carts　and　waggons；　belonging　to　the　soldiers　of　the　escort；　following　behind　them。　But　as　they　came　out　to　the　provision　shops　they　found　themselves　in　the　middle　of　a　huge　train　of　artillery；　moving　with　difficulty；　and　mixed　up　with　private　baggage…waggons。
At　the　bridge　itself　the　whole　mass　halted；　waiting　for　the　foremost　to　get　across。　From　the　bridge　the　prisoners　got　a　view　of　endless　trains　of　baggage…waggons　in　front　and　behind。　On　the　right；　where　the　Kaluga　road　turns　by　Neskutchny　Gardens；　endless　files　of　troops　and　waggons　stretched　away　into　the　distance。　These　were　the　troops　of　Beauharnais’s　corps；　which　had　set　off　before　all　the　rest。　Behind；　along　the　riverside；　and　across　Kamenny　bridge；　stretched　the　troops　and　transport　of　Ney’s　corps。
Davoust’s　troops；　to　which　the　prisoners　belonged；　were　crossing　by　the　Crimean　Ford；　and　part　had　already　entered　Kaluga　Street。　But　the　baggage…trains　were　so　long　that　the　last　waggons　of　Beauharnais’s　corps　had　not　yet　got　out　of　Moscow　into　Kaluga　Street；　while　the　vanguard　of　Ney’s　troops　had　already　emerged　from　Bolshaya　Ordynka。
After　crossing　the　Crimean　Ford；　the　prisoners　moved　a　few　steps　at　a　time　and　then　halted；　and　again　moved　forward；　and　the　crowd　of　vehicles　and　people　grew　greater　and　greater　on　all　sides。　After　taking　over　an　hour　in　crossing　the　few　hundred　steps　which　separates　the　bridge　from　Kaluga　Street　and　getting　as　far　as　the　square　where　the　Zamoskvoryetche　streets　run　into　Kaluga　Street；　the　prisoners　were　jammed　in　a　close　block　and　kept　standing　for　several　hours　at　the　crossroads。　On　all　sides　there　was　an　unceasing　sound；　like　the　roar　of　the　sea；　of　rumbling　wheels；　and　tramping　troops；　and　incessant　shouts　of　anger　and　loud　abuse。　Pierre　stood　squeezed　against　the　wall　of　a　charred　house；　listening　to　that　sound；　which　in　his　imagination　melted　off　into　the　roll　of　drums。
Several　of　the　Russian　officers　clambered　up　on　to　the　wall　of　the　burnt　house　by　which　Pierre　stood　so　as　to　get　a　better　view。
“The　crowds！　What　crowds！…They　have　even　loaded　goods　on　the　cannons！　Look　at　the　furs！…”　they　kept　saying。　“I　say；　the　vermin；　they　have　been　pillaging。…Look　at　what　that　one　has　got　behind；　on　the　cart。…Why；　they　are　holy　pictures；　by　God！…Those　must　be　Germans。　And　a　Russian　peasant；　by　God！…Ah；　the　wretches！…See；　how　he’s　loaded；　he　can　hardly　move！　Look；　I　say；　chaises；　they　have　got　hold　of　them；　too！…See；　he　has　perched　on　the　boxes。　Heavens！…They　have　started　fighting！…That’s　right；　hit　him　in　the　face！　We　shan’t　get　by　before　evening　like　this。　Look；　look！…Why；　that　must　surely　be　Napoleon　himself。　Do　you　see　the　horses！　with　the　monograms　and　a　crown！　That’s　a　portable　house。　He　has　dropped　his　sack；　and　doesn’t　see　it。　Fighting　again。…A　woman　with　a　baby；　and　good…looking；　too！　Yes；　I　dare　say；　that’s　the　way　they　will　let　you　pass。…Look；　why；　there’s　no　end　to　it。　Russian　wenches；　I　do　declare　they　are。　See　how　comfortable　they　are　in　the　carriages！”
Again　a　wave　of　general　curiosity；　as　at　the　church　in　Hamovniky；　carried　all　the　prisoners　forward　towards　the　road；　and　Pierre；　thanks　to　his　height；　saw　over　the　heads　of　the　others　what　attracted　the　prisoners’　curiosity。　Three　carriages　were　blocked　between　caissons；　and　in　them　a　number　of　women　with　rouged　faces；　decked　out　in　flaring　colours；　were　sitting　closely　packed　together；　shouting　something　in　shrill　voices。
From　the　moment　when　Pierre　had　recognised　the　manifestation　of　that　mysterious　force；　nothing　seemed　to　him　strange　or　terrible；　not　the　corpse　with　its　face　blacked　for　a　jest；　nor　these　women　hurrying　away；　nor　the　burnt　ruins　of　Moscow。　All　that　Pierre　saw　now　made　hardly　any　impression　on　him—as　though　his　soul；　in　preparation　for　a　hard　struggle；　refused　to　receive　any　impression　that　might　weaken　it。
The　carriages　of　women　drove　by。　They　were　followed　again　by　carts；　soldiers；　waggons；　soldiers；　carriages；　soldiers；　caissons；　and　again　soldiers；　and　at　rare　intervals　women。
Pierre　did　not　see　the　people　separately；　he　saw　only　their　movement。
All　these　men　and　horses　seemed；　as　it　were；　driven　along　by　some　unseen　force。　During　the　hour　in　which　Pierre　watched　them　they　all　were　swept　out　of　the　different　streets　with　the　same　one　desire　to　get　on　as　quickly　as　possible。　All　of　them；　alike　hindered　by　the　rest；　began　to　get　angry　and　to　fight。　The　same　oaths　were　bandied　to　and　fro；　and　white　teeth　flashed；　and　every　frowning　face　wore　the　same　look　of　reckless　determination　and　cold　cruelty；　which　had　struck　Pierre　in　the　morning　in　the　corporal’s　face；　while　the　drums　were　beating。
It　was　almost　evening　when　the　officer　in　command　of　their　escort　rallied　his　men；　and　with　shouts　and　oaths　forced　his　way　in　among　the　baggage…trains；　and　the　prisoners；　surrounded　on　all　sides；　came　out　on　the　Kaluga　road。
They　marched　very　quickly　without　pausing；　and　only　halted　when　the　sun　was　setting。　The　baggage…carts　were　moved　up　close　to　one　another；　and　the　men　began　to　prepare　for　the　night。　Every　one　seemed　ill…humoured　and　dissatisfied。　Oaths；　angry　shouts；　and　fighting　could　be　heard　on　all　sides　till　a　late　hour。　A　carriage；　which　had　been　following　the　escort；　had　driven　into　one　of　their　carts　and　run　a　shaft　into　it。　Several　soldiers　ran　up　to　the　cart　from　different　sides；　some　hit　the　carriage　horses　on　the　head　as　they　turned　them　round；　other　were　fighting　among　themselves；　and　Pierre　saw　one　German　seriously　wounded　by　a　blow　from　the　flat　side　of　a　sword　on　his　head。
It　seemed　as　though　now　when　they　had　come　to　a　standstill　in　the　midst　of　the　open　country；　in　the　cold　twilight　of　the　autumn　evening；　all　these　men　were　experiencing　the　same　feeling　of　unpleasant　awakening　from　the　hurry　and　eager　impulse　forward　that　had　carried　them　all　away　at　setting　off。　Now　standing　still；　all　as　it　were　grasped　that　they　knew　not　where　they　were　going；　and　that　there　was　much　pain　and　hardship　in　store　for　them　on　the　journey。
At　this　halting…place；　the　prisoners　were　even　more　roughly　treated　by　their　escort　than　at　starting。　They　were　for　the　first　time　given　horse…flesh　to　eat。
In　every　one　of　the　escort；　from　the　officers　to　the　lowest　soldier；　could　be　seen　a　sort　of　personal　spite　against　every　one　of　the　prisoners；　in　surprising　contrast　with　the　friendly　relations　that　had　existed　between　them　before。
This　spite　was　increased　when；　on　counting　over　the　prisoners；　it　was　discovered　that　in　the　bustle　of　getting　out　of　Moscow　one　Russian　soldier　had　managed　to　run　away　by　pretending　to　be　seized　with　colic。　Pierre　had　seen　a　Frenchman　beat　a　Russian　soldier　unmercifully　for　moving　too　far　from　the　road；　and　heard　the　captain；　who　had　been　his　friend；　reprimanding　an　under…officer　for　the　escape　of　the　prisoner；　and　threatening　him　with　court…martial。　On　the　under…officer’s　urging　that　the　prisoner　was　ill　and　could　not　walk；　the　officer　said　that　their　orders　were　to　shoot　those　who　should　lag　behind。　Pierre　felt　that　that　fatal　force　which　had　crushed　him　at　the　execution；　and　had　been　imperceptible　during　his　imprisonment；　had　now　again　the　mastery　of　his　existence。　He　was　afraid；　but　he　felt　too；　that　as　that　fatal　force　strove　to　crush　him；　there　was　growing　up　in　his　soul　and　gathering　strength　a　force　of　life　that　was　ind