战争与和平(上)-第255章

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On　the　22nd　of　October；　Denisov；　who　was　a　leader　of　a　band　of　irregulars；　was　eagerly　engaged　in　a　typical　operation　of　this　irregular　warfare。　From　early　morning　he　had　been　with　his　men　moving　about　the　woods　that　bordered　the　high　road；　watching　a　big　convoy　of　cavalry　baggage　and　Russian　prisoners　that　had　dropped　behind　the　other　French　troops；　and　under　strong　escort—as　he　learned　from　his　scouts　and　from　prisoners—was　making　its　way　to　Smolensk。　Not　only　Denisov　and　Dolohov　（who　was　also　a　leader　of　a　small　band　acting　in　the　same　district）　were　aware　of　the　presence　of　this　convoy。　Some　generals　in　command　of　some　larger　detachments；　with　staff…officers　also；　knew　of　this　convoy；　and；　as　Denisov　said；　their　mouths　were　watering　for　it。　Two　of　these　generals—one　a　Pole；　the　other　a　German—had　almost　at　the　same　time　sent　to　Denisov　an　invitation　to　join　their　respective　detachments　in　attacking　the　convoy。
“No；　friend；　I　wasn’t　born　yesterday！”　said　Denisov；　on　reading　these　documents；　and　he　wrote　to　the　German　that　in　spite　of　his　ardent　desire　to　serve　under　so　brilliant　and　renowned　a　general；　he　must　deprive　himself　of　that　happiness　because　he　was　already　under　the　command　of　the　Polish　general。　To　the　Pole　he　wrote　the　same　thing；　informing　him　that　he　was　already　serving　under　the　command　of　the　German。
Having　thus　disposed　of　that　difficulty；　Denisov；　without　communicating　on　the　subject　to　the　higher　authorities；　intended　with　Dolohov　to　attack　and　carry　off　this　transport　with　his　own　small　force。　The　transport　was；　on　the　22nd　of　October；　going　from　the　village　of　Mikulino　to　the　village　of　Shamshevo。　On　the　left　side　of　the　road　between　Mikulino　and　Shamshevo　there　were　great　woods；　which　in　places　bordered　on　the　road；　and　in　places　were　a　verst　or　more　from　the　road。　Denisov；　with　a　small　party　of　followers；　had　been　the　whole　day　riding　about　in　these　woods；　sometimes　plunging　into　their　centre；　and　sometimes　coming　out　at　the　edge；　but　never　losing　sight　of　the　moving　French。　In　the　morning；　not　far　from　Mikulino；　where　the　wood　ran　close　to　the　road；　the　Cossacks　of　Denisov’s　party　had　pounced　on　two　French　waggonloads　of　saddles；　stuck　in　the　mud；　and　had　carried　them　off　into　the　wood。　From　that　time　right　on　to　evening；　they　had　been　watching　the　movements　of　the　French　without　attacking　them。　They　wanted　to　avoid　frightening　them；　and　to　let　them　go　quietly　on　to　Shamshevo；　and　then；　joining　Dolohov　（who　was　to　come　that　evening　to　a　trysting…place　in　the　wood；　a　verst　from　Shamshevo；　to　concert　measures　with　them）；　from　two　sides　to　fall　at　dawn　like　an　avalanche　of　snow　on　their　heads；　and　to　overcome　and　capture　all　of　them　at　a　blow。
Six　Cossacks　had　been　left　behind；　two　versts　from　Mikulino；　where　the　wood　bordered　the　road。　They　were　to　bring　word　at　once　as　soon　as　any　fresh　columns　of　French　came　into　sight。
In　front　of　Shamshevo；　Dolohov　was　in　the　same　way　to　watch　the　road　to　know　at　what　distance　there　were　other　French　troops。　With　the　transport　there　were　supposed　to　be　fifteen　hundred　men。　Denisov　had　two　hundred　men；　and　Dolohov　might　have　as　many　more。　But　superiority　in　numbers　was　no　obstacle　to　Denisov。　There　was　only　one　thing　that　he　still　needed　to　know；　and　that　was　what　troops　these　were；　and　for　that　object　Denisov　needed　to　take　a　“tongue”　（that　is；　some　man　belonging　to　that　column　of　the　enemy）。　The　attack　on　the　waggons　in　the　morning　was　all　done　with　such　haste　that　they　killed　all　the　French　soldiers　in　charge　of　the　waggons；　and　captured　alive　only　a　little　drummer…boy；　who　had　straggled　away　from　his　own　regiment；　and　could　tell　them　nothing　certain　about　the　troops　forming　the　column。
To　make　another　descent　upon　them；　Denisov　thought；　would　be　to　risk　alarming　the　whole　column；　and　so　he　sent　on　ahead　to　Shamshevo　a　peasant；　Tihon　Shtcherbatov；　to　try　if　he　could　capture　at　least　one　of　the　French　quartermasters　from　the　vanguard。


Chapter　4
IT　was　a　warm；　rainy；　autumn　day。　The　sky　and　the　horizon　were　all　of　the　uniform　tint　of　muddy　water。　Sometimes　a　mist　seemed　to　be　falling；　and　sometimes　there　was　a　sudden　downpour　of　heavy；　slanting　rain。
Denisov；　in　a　long　cape　and　a　high　fur　cap；　both　streaming　with　water；　was　riding　a　thin；　pinched…looking；　thoroughbred　horse。　With　his　head　aslant；　and　his　ears　pricked　up；　like　his　horse；　he　was　frowning　at　the　driving　rain；　and　anxiously　looking　before　him。　His　face；　which　had　grown　thin；　and　was　covered　with　a　thick；　short；　black　heard；　looked　wrathful。
Beside　Denisov；　wearing　also　a　long　cape　and　a　high　cap；　and　mounted　on　a　sleek；　sturdy　Don　horse；　rode　the　esaul；　or　hetman　of　the　Cossacks—Denisov’s　partner　in　his　enterprises。
The　esaul；　Lovaisky　the　Third；　also　in　a　cape；　and　a　high　cap；　was　a　long　creature；　flat　as　a　board；　with　a　pale　face；　flaxen　hair；　narrow；　light　eyes；　and　an　expression　of　calm　self…confidence　both　in　his　face　and　his　attitude。　Though　it　was　impossible　to　say　what　constituted　the　peculiarity　of　horse　and　rider；　at　the　first　glance　at　the　esaul　and　at　Denisov；　it　was　evident　that　Denisov　was　both　wet　and　uncomfortable；　that　Denisov　was　a　man　sitting　on　a　horse；　while　the　esaul　seemed　as　comfortable　and　calm　as　always；　and　seemed　not　a　man　sitting　on　a　horse；　but　a　man　forming　one　whole　with　a　horse—a　single　being　enlarged　by　the　strength　of　two。
A　little　ahead　of　them　walked　a　peasant…guide；　soaked　through　and　through　in　his　grey　full　coat　and　white　cap。
A　little　behind；　on　a　thin；　delicate　Kirghiz　pony　with　a　flowing　tail　and　mane；　and　a　mouth　flecked　with　blood；　rode　a　young　officer　in　a　blue　French　military　coat。　Beside　him　rode　an　hussar；　with　a　boy　in　a　tattered　French　uniform　and　blue　cap；　perched　upon　his　horse　behind　him。　The　boy　held　on　to　the　hussar　with　hands　red　with　cold；　and　kept　moving　his　bare　feet；　trying　to　warm　them；　and　lifting　his　eyebrows；　gazed　about　him　wonderingly。　This　was　the　French　drummer；　who　had　been　taken　in　the　morning。
Along　the　narrow；　muddy；　cut…up　forest…track　there　came　hussars　in　knots　of　three　and　four　at　a　time；　and　then　Cossacks；　some　in　capes；　some　in　French　cloaks；　others　with　horse…cloths　pulled　over　their　heads。　The　horses；　chestnut　and　bay；　all　looked　black　from　the　soaking　rain。　Their　necks　looked　strangely　thin　with　their　drenched　manes；　and　steam　rose　in　clouds　from　them。　Clothes；　saddles；　and　bridles；　all　were　sticky　and　swollen　with　the　wet；　like　the　earth　and　the　fallen　leaves　with　which　the　track　was　strewn。　The　men　sat　huddled　up；　trying　not　to　move；　so　as　to　keep　warm　the　water　that　had　already　reached　their　skins；　and　not　to　let　any　fresh　stream　of　cold　rain　trickle　in　anywhere　under　their　seat；　or　at　their　knees　or　necks。　In　the　midst　of　the　file　of　Cossacks　two　waggons；　drawn　by　French　horses；　and　Cossack　saddle…horses　hitched　on　in　front；　rumbled　over　stumps　and　branches；　and　splashed　through　the　ruts　full　of　water。
Denisov’s　horse；　in　avoiding　a　puddle　in　the　track；　knocked　his　rider’s　knee　against　a　tree。
“Ah；　devil！”　Denisov　cried　angrily；　and　showing　his　teeth；　he　struck　his　horse　three　times　with　his　whip；　splashing　himself　and　his　comrades　with　mud。　Denisov　was　out　of　humour；　both　from　the　rain　and　hunger　（no　one　had　eaten　anything　since　morning）；　and；　most　of　all；　from　having　no　news　of　Dolohov；　and　from　no　French　prisoner　having　been　caught　to　give　him　information。
“We　shall　never　have　such　another　chance　to　fall　on　the　transport　as　to…day。　To　attack　them　alone　would　be　risky；　and　to　put　it　off　to　another　day—some　one　of　the　bigger　leaders　will　carry　the　booty　off　from　under　our　noses；”　thought　Denisov；　continually　looking　ahead；　and　fancying　he　saw　the　messenger　from　Dolohov　he　expected。
Coming　out　into　a　clearing　from　which　he　could　get　a　view　to　some　distance　on　the　right；　Denisov　stopped。
“There’s　some　one　coming；”　he　said。
The　esaul　looked　in　the　direction　Denisov　was　pointing　to。
“There　are　two　men　coming—an　officer　and　a　Cossack。　Only　I　wouldn’t　be　prepositive　that　is　the　colonel　himself；”　said　the　esaul；　who　loved　to　use　words　that　were　unfamiliar　to　the　Cossacks。　The　two　figures；　riding　downhill；　disappeared　from　sight；　and　came　into　view　again　a　few　minutes　later。　The　foremost　was　an　officer；　dishevelled　looking；　and　soaked　through；　with　his　trousers　tucked　up　above　his　knees；　he　was　lashing　his　horse　into　a　weary　gallop。　Behind　him　a　Cossack　trotted　along；　standing　up　in　his　stirrups。　This　officer；　a　quite　young　boy；　with　a　broad；　rosy　face　and　keen；　merry　eyes；　galloped　up　to　Denisov；　and　handed　him　a　sopping　packet。
“From　the　general；”　he　said。　“I　must　apologise　for　its　not　being　quite　dry。…”
Denisov；　frowning；　took　the　packet　and　broke　it　open。
“Why；　they　kept　telling　us　it　was　so　dangerous；”　said　the　officer；　turning　to　the　esaul　while　Denisov　was　reading　the　letter。　“But　Komarov”—　and　he　indicated　the　Cossack—“and　I　were　prepared。　We　have　both　two　pisto　…　But　what’s　this？”　he　asked；　seeing　the　French　drummer…boy。　“A　prisoner？　You　have　had　a　battle　already？　May　I　talk　to　him？”
“Rostov！　Petya！”　Denisov　cried　at　that　moment；　running　through　the　packet　that　had　been　given　him。　“Why；　how　was　it　you　didn’t　say　who　you　were？”　and　Denisov；　turning　with　a　smile；　held　out　his　hand　to　the　officer。　This　officer　was　Petya　Rostov。
Petya　had　been　all　the　way　preparing　himself　to　behave　with　Denisov　as　a　grown…up　person　and　an　officer　should　do；　making　no　reference　to　their　previous　acquaintance。　But　as　soon　as　Denisov　smiled　at　him；　Petya　beamed　at　once；　blushed　with　delight；　and　forgetting　all　the　formal　demeanour　he　had　been　intending　to　preserve；　he　began　telling　him　how　he　had　ridden　by　the　French；　and　how　glad　he　was　he　had　been　given　this　commission；　and　how　he　had　already　been　in　a　battle　at　Vyazma；　and　how　a　certain　hussar　had　distinguished　himself　in　it。
“Well；　I　am　glad　to　see　you；”　Denisov　interrupted　him；　and　his　face　looked　anxious　again。
“Mihail　Feoklititch；”　he　said　to　the　esaul；　“this　is　from　the　German　again；　you　know。　He”　（Petya）　“is　in　his　suite。”　And　Denisov　told　the　esaul　that　the　letter；　which　had　just　been　brought；　repeated　the　German　general’s　request　that　they　would　join　him　in　attacking　the　transport。　“If　we　don’t　catch　them　by　to…morrow；　he’ll　snatch　them　from　under　our　noses；”　he　concluded。
While　Denisov　was　talking　to　the　esaul；　Petya；　disconcerted　by　Denisov’s　cold　tone；　and　imagining　that　that　tone　might　be　due　to　the　condition　of　his　trousers；　furtively　pulled　them　down　under　his　cloak；　trying　to　do　so　unobserved；　and　to　maintain　as　martial　an　air　as　possible。
“Will　your　honour　have　any　instructions　to　give　me？”　he　said　to　Denisov；　putting　his　hand　to　the　peak　of　his　cap；　and　going　back　to　the　comedy　of　adjutant　and　general；　which　he　had　prepared　himself　to　perform；　“or　should　I　remain　with　your　honour？”
“Instructions？　…”　said　Denisov　absently。　“Well；　can　you　stay　till　tomorrow？”
“Oh；　please　…　May　I　stay　with　you？”　cried　Petya。
“Well；　what　were　your　instructions　from　your　general—to　go　back　at　once？”　asked　Denisov。
Petya　blushed。
“Oh；　he　gave　me　no　instructions。　I　think　I　may？”　he　said　interrogatively。
“All　right；　then；”　said　Denisov。　And　turning　to　his　followers；　he　directed　a　party　of　them