战争与和平(上)-第44章

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behind　near　the　dead；　and　overtaking　his　line；　changed　feet　with　a　hop；　got　into　step；　and　looked　angrily　about　him。　“Left　…　left　…　left　…”　seemed　to　echo　out　of　the　menacing　silence　and　the　monotonous　sound　of　the　simultaneous　tread　of　the　feet　on　the　ground。
“Well　done；　lads！”　said　Prince　Bagration。
“For　your　ex　…　slen；　slen；　slency！”　rang　out　along　the　ranks。　A　surly…looking　soldier；　marching　on　the　left；　turned　his　eyes　on　Bagration　as　he　shouted；　with　an　expression　that　seemed　to　say；　“We　know　that　without　telling。”　Another；　opening　his　mouth　wide；　shouted　without　glancing　round；　and　marched　on；　as　though　afraid　of　letting　his　attention　stray。　The　order　was　given　to　halt　and　take　off　their　knapsacks。
Bagration　rode　round　the　ranks　of　men　who　had　marched　by　him；　and　then　dismounted　from　his　horse。　He　gave　the　reins　to　a　Cossack；　took　off　his　cloak　and　handed　it　to　him；　stretched　his　legs　and　set　his　cap　straight　on　his　head。　The　French　column　with　the　officers　in　front　came　into　sight　under　the　hill。
“With　God’s　help！”　cried　Bagration　in　a　resolute；　sonorous　voice。　He　turned　for　one　instant　to　the　front　line；　and　swinging　his　arms　a　little；　with　the　awkward；　lumbering　gait　of　a　man　always　on　horseback；　he　walked　forward　over　the　uneven　ground。　Prince　Andrey　felt　that　some　unseen　force　was　drawing　him　forward；　and　he　had　a　sensation　of　great　happiness。
The　French　were　near。　Already　Prince　Andrey；　walking　beside　Bagration；　could　distinguish　clearly　the　sashes；　the　red　epaulettes；　even　the　faces　of　the　French。　（He　saw　distinctly　one　bandy…legged　old　French　officer；　wearing　Hessian　boots；　who　was　getting　up　the　hill　with　difficulty；　taking　hold　of　the　bushes。）　Prince　Bagration　gave　no　new　command；　and　still　marched　in　front　of　the　ranks　in　the　same　silence。　Suddenly　there　was　the　snap　of　a　shot　among　the　French；　another　and　a　third　…　and　smoke　rose　and　firing　rang　out　in　all　the　broken…up　ranks　of　the　enemy。　Several　of　our　men　fell；　among　them　the　round…faced　officer；　who　had　been　marching　so　carefully　and　complacently。　But　at　the　very　instant　of　the　first　shot；　Bagration　looked　round　and　shouted；　“Hurrah！”　“Hurra　…　a　…　a　…　ah！”　rang　out　along　our　lines　in　a　prolonged　roar；　and　out…stripping　Prince　Bagration　and　one　another；　in　no　order；　but　in　an　eager　and　joyous　crowd；　our　men　ran　downhill　after　the　routed　French。


Chapter　19
THE　ATTACK　of　the　Sixth　Chasseurs　covered　the　retreat　of　the　right　flank。　In　the　centre　Tushin’s　forgotten　battery　had　succeeded　in　setting　fire　to　Sch？ngraben　and　delaying　the　advance　of　the　French。　The　French　stayed　to　put　out　the　fire；　which　was　fanned　by　the　wind；　and　this　gave　time　for　the　Russians　to　retreat。　The　retreat　of　the　centre　beyond　the　ravine　was　hurried　and　noisy；　but　the　different　companies　kept　apart。　But　the　left　flank；　which　consisted　of　the　Azovsky　and　Podolosky　infantry　and　the　Pavlograd　hussars；　was　simultaneously　attacked　in　front　and　surrounded　by　the　cream　of　the　French　army　under　Lannes；　and　was　thrown　into　disorder。　Bagration　had　sent　Zherkov　to　the　general　in　command　of　the　left　flank　with　orders　to　retreat　immediately。
Zherkov；　keeping　his　hand　still　at　his　cap；　had　briskly　started　his　horse　and　galloped　off。　But　no　sooner　had　he　ridden　out　of　Bagration’s　sight　than　his　courage　failed　him。　He　was　overtaken　by　a　panic　he　could　not　contend　against；　and　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　go　where　there　was　danger。
After　galloping　some　distance　towards　the　troops　of　the　left　flank；　he　rode　not　forward　where　he　heard　firing；　but　off　to　look　for　the　general　and　the　officers　in　a　direction　where　they　could　not　by　any　possibility　be；　and　so　it　was　that　he　did　not　deliver　the　message。
The　command　of　the　left　flank　belonged　by　right　of　seniority　to　the　general　of　the　regiment　in　which　Dolohov　was　serving—the　regiment　which　Kutuzov　had　inspected　before　Braunau。　But　the　command　of　the　extreme　left　flank　had　been　entrusted　to　the　colonel　of　the　Pavlograd　hussars；　in　which　Rostov　was　serving。　Hence　arose　a　misunderstanding。　Both　commanding　officers　were　intensely　exasperated　with　one　another；　and　at　a　time　when　fighting　had　been　going　on　a　long　while　on　the　right　flank；　and　the　French　had　already　begun　their　advance　on　the　left；　these　two　officers　were　engaged　in　negotiations；　the　sole　aim　of　which　was　the　mortification　of　one　another。　The　regiments—cavalry　and　infantry　alike—were　by　no　means　in　readiness　for　the　engagement。　No　one　from　the　common　soldier　to　the　general　expected　a　battle；　and　they　were　all　calmly　engaged　in　peaceful　occupations—feeding　their　horses　in　the　cavalry；　gathering　wood　in　the　infantry。
“He　is　my　senior　in　rank；　however；”　said　the　German　colonel　of　the　hussars；　growing　very　red　and　addressing　an　adjutant；　who　had　ridden　up。　“So　let　him　do　as　he　likes。　I　can’t　sacrifice　my　hussars。　Bugler！　Sound　the　retreat！”
But　things　were　becoming　urgent。　The　fire　of　cannon　and　musketry　thundered　in　unison　on　the　right　and　in　the　centre；　and　the　French　tunics　of　Lannes’s　sharpshooters　had　already　passed　over　the　milldam；　and　were　forming　on　this　side　of　it　hardly　out　of　musket…shot　range。
The　infantry　general　walked　up　to　his　horse　with　his　quivering　strut；　and　mounting　it　and　drawing　himself　up　very　erect　and　tall；　he　rode　up　to　the　Pavlograd　colonel。　The　two　officers　met　with　affable　bows　and　concealed　fury　in　their　hearts。
“Again；　colonel；”　the　general　said；　“I　cannot　leave　half　my　men　in　the　wood。　I　beg　you；　I　beg　you；”　he　repeated；　“to　occupy　the　position；　and　prepare　for　an　attack。”
“And　I　beg　you　not　to　meddle　in　what’s　not　your　business；”　answered　the　colonel；　getting　hot。　“If　you　were　a　cavalry　officer　…”
“I　am　not　a　cavalry　officer；　colonel；　but　I　am　a　Russian　general；　and　if　you　are　unaware　of　the　fact　…”
“I　am　fully　aware　of　it；　your　excellency；”　the　colonel　screamed　suddenly；　setting　his　horse　in　motion　and　becoming　purple　in　the　face。　“If　you　care　to　come　to　the　front；　you　will　see　that　this　position　cannot　be　held。　I　don’t　want　to　massacre　my　regiment　for　your　satisfaction。”
“You　forget　yourself；　colonel。　I　am　not　considering　my　own　satisfaction；　and　I　do　not　allow　such　a　thing　to　be　said。”
Taking　the　colonel’s　proposition　as　a　challenge　to　his　courage；　the　general　squared　his　chest　and　rode　scowling　beside　him　to　the　front　line；　as　though　their　whole　difference　would　inevitably　be　settled　there　under　the　enemy’s　fire。　They　reached　the　line；　several　bullets　flew　by　them；　and　they　stood　still　without　a　word。　To　look　at　the　front　line　was　a　useless　proceeding；　since　from　the　spot　where　they　had　been　standing　before；　it　was　clear　that　the　cavalry　could　not　act；　owing　to　the　bushes　and　the　steep　and　broken　character　of　the　ground；　and　that　the　French　were　out…flanking　the　left　wing。　The　general　and　the　colonel　glared　sternly　and　significantly　at　one　another；　like　two　cocks　preparing　for　a　fight；　seeking　in　vain　for　a　symptom　of　cowardice。　Both　stood　the　test　without　flinching。　Since　there　was　nothing　to　be　said；　and　neither　was　willing　to　give　the　other　grounds　for　asserting　that　he　was　the　first　to　withdraw　from　under　fire；　they　might　have　remained　a　long　while　standing　there；　mutually　testing　each　other’s　pluck；　if　there　had　not　at　that　moment　been　heard　in　the　copse；　almost　behind　them；　the　snap　of　musketry　and　a　confused　shout　of　voices。　The　French　were　attacking　the　soldiers　gathering　wood　in　the　copse。　The　hussars　could　not　now　retreat；　nor　could　the　infantry。　They　were　cut　off　from　falling　back　on　the　left　by　the　French　line。　Now；　unfavourable　as　the　ground　was；　they　must　attack　to　fight　a　way　through　for　themselves。
The　hussars　of　the　squadron　in　which　Rostov　was　an　ensign　had　hardly　time　to　mount　their　horses　when　they　were　confronted　by　the　enemy。　Again；　as　on　the　Enns　bridge；　there　was　no　one　between　the　squadron　and　the　enemy；　and　between　them　lay　that　terrible　border…line　of　uncertainty　and　dread；　like　the　line　dividing　the　living　from　the　dead。　All　the　soldiers　were　conscious　of　that　line；　and　the　question　whether　they　would　cross　it　or　not；　and　how　they　would　cross　it；　filled　them　with　excitement。
The　colonel　rode　up　to　the　front；　made　some　angry　reply　to　the　questions　of　the　officers；　and；　like　a　man　desperately　insisting　on　his　rights；　gave　some　command。　No　one　said　anything　distinctly；　but　through　the　whole　squadron　there　ran　a　vague　rumour　of　attack。　The　command　to　form　in　order　rang　out；　then　there　was　the　clank　of　sabres　being　drawn　out　of　their　sheaths。　But　still　no　one　moved。　The　troops　of　the　left　flank；　both　the　infantry　and　the　hussars；　felt　that　their　commanders　themselves　did　not　know　what　to　do；　and　the　uncertainty　of　the　commanders　infected　the　soldiers。
“Make　haste；　if　only　they’d　make　haste；”　thought　Rostov；　feeling　that　at　last　the　moment　had　come　to　taste　the　joys　of　the　attack；　of　which　he　had　heard　so　much　from　his　comrades。
“With　God’s　help；　lads；”　rang　out　Denisov’s　voice；　“forward；　quick；　gallop！”
The　horses’　haunches　began　moving　in　the　front　line。　Rook　pulled　at　the　reins　and　set　off　of　himself。
On　the　right　Rostov　saw　the　foremost　lines　of　his　own　hussars；　and　still　further　ahead　he　could　see　a　dark　streak；　which　he　could　not　distinguish　clearly；　but　assumed　to　be　the　enemy。　Shots　could　be　heard；　but　at　a　distance。
“Quicker！”　rang　out　the　word　of　command；　and　Rostov　felt　the　drooping　of　Rook’s　hindquarters　as　he　broke　into　a　gallop。　He　felt　the　joy　of　the　gallop　coming；　and　was　more　and　more　lighthearted。　He　noticed　a　solitary　tree　ahead　of　him。　The　tree　was　at　first　in　front　of　him；　in　the　middle　of　that　border…land　that　had　seemed　so　terrible。　But　now　they　had　crossed　it　and　nothing　terrible　had　happened；　but　he　felt　more　lively　and　excited　every　moment。　“Ah；　won’t　I　slash　at　him！”　thought　Rostov；　grasping　the　hilt　of　his　sabre　tightly。　“Hur　…　r　…　a　…　a！”　roared　voices。
“Now；　let　him　come　on；　whoever　it　may　be；”　thought　Rostov；　driving　the　spurs　into　Rook；　and　outstripping　the　rest；　he　let　him　go　at　full　gallop。　Already　the　enemy　could　be　seen　in　front。　Suddenly　something　swept　over　the　squadron　like　a　broad　broom。　Rostov　lifted　his　sabre；　making　ready　to　deal　a　blow；　but　at　that　instant　the　soldier　Nikitenko　galloped　ahead　and　left　his　side；　and　Rostov　felt　as　though　he　were　in　a　dream　being　carried　forward　with　supernatural　swiftness　and　yet　remaining　at　the　same　spot。　An　hussar；　Bandartchuk；　galloped　up　from　behind　close　upon　him　and　looked　angrily　at　him。　Bandartchuk’s　horse　started　aside；　and　he　galloped　by。
“What’s　the　matter？　I’m　not　moving？　I’ve　fallen；　I’m　killed　…”　Rostov　asked　and　answered　himself　all　in　one　instant。　He　was　alone　in　the　middle　of　the　field。　Instead　of　the　moving　horses　and　the　hussars’　backs；　he　saw　around　him　the　motionless　earth　and　stubblefield。　There　was　warm　blood　under　him。
“No；　I’m　wounded；　and　my　horse　is　killed。”　Rook　tried　to　get　up　on　his　forelegs；　but　he　sank　again；　crushing　his　rider’s　leg　under　his　leg。　Blood　was　flowing　from　the　horse’s　head。　The　horse　struggled；　but　could　not　get　up。　Rostov　tried　to　get　up；　and　fell　down　too。　His　sabretache　had　caught　in　the　saddle。　Where　were　our　men；　where　were　the　French；　he　did　not　know。　All　around　him　there　was　no　one。
Getting　his　leg　fr