战争与和平(上)-第168章
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e litter…” he whispered； “they have gone straight toward Lyadovsky upland。”
The count； with a smile still lingering on his face； looked straight before him along the path； and did not take a pinch from the snuff…box he held in his hand。 The hounds’ cry was followed by the bass note of the hunting cry for a wolf sounded on Danilo’s horn。 The pack joined the first three dogs； and the voices of the hounds could be heard in full cry with the peculiar note which serves to betoken that they are after a wolf。 The whippers…in were not now hallooing； but urging on the hounds with cries of “Loo！ loo！ loo！” and above all the voices rose the voice of Danilo； passing from a deep note to piercing shrillness。 Danilo’s voice seemed to fill the whole forest； to pierce beyond it； and echo far away in the open country。
After listening for a few seconds in silence； the count and his groom felt certain that the hounds had divided into two packs： one； the larger； was going off into the distance； in particularly hot cry； the other part of the pack was moving along the forest past the count； and it was with this pack that Danilo’s voice was heard urging the dogs on。 The sounds from both packs melted into unison and broke apart again； but both were getting further away。 Semyon sighed and stooped down to straighten the leash； in which a young dog had caught his leg。 The count too sighed； and noticing the snuff…box in his hand； he opened it and took a pinch。
“Back！” cried Semyon to the dog； which had poked out beyond the bushes。 The count started； and dropped the snuff…box。 Nastasya Ivanovna got off his horse and began picking it up。
The count and Semyon watched him。 All of a sudden； as so often happens； the sound of the hunt was in an instant close at hand； as though the baying dogs and Danilo’s cries were just upon them。
The count looked round； and on the right he saw Mitka； who was staring at the count with eyes starting out of his head。 Lifting his cap； he pointed in front to the other side。
“Look out！” he shouted in a voice that showed the words had long been fretting him to be uttered。 And letting go the dogs； he galloped towards the count。
The count and Semyon galloped out of the bushes； and on their left they saw a wolf。 With a soft； rolling gait it moved at a slow amble further to their left into the very thicket in which they had been standing。 The angry dogs whined； and pulling themselves free from the leash； flew by the horses’ hoofs after the wolf。
The wolf paused in his flight； awkwardly； like a man with a quinsy； he turned his heavy…browed head towards the dogs； and still with the same soft； rolling gait gave one bound and a second； and； waving its tail； disappeared into the bushes。 At the same instant； with a cry like a wail； there sprang desperately out of the thicket opposite one hound； then a second and a third； and all the pack flew across the open ground towards the very spot where the wolf had vanished。 The bushes were parted behind the dogs； and Danilo’s brown horse； dark with sweat； emerged from them。 On its long back Danilo sat perched up and swaying forward。 He had no cap on his grey hair； that fluttered in disorder above his red； perspiring face。
“Loo！ loo！ loo！…” he was shouting。 When he caught sight of the count； there was a flash like lightning in his eyes。
“B—！” he shouted； using a brutally coarse term of abuse and menacing the count with his lifted whip。 “Let the wolf slip！…sportsmen indeed！” And as though scorning to waste more words on the confused and frightened count； he lashed the moist and heavy sides of his brown gelding with all the fury that had been ready for the count； and flew off after the dogs。 The count stood like a man who has been thrashed； looking about him and trying to smile and call for Semyon to sympathise with his plight。 But Semyon was not there； he had galloped round to cut the wolf off from the forest。 The greyhounds； too； were running to and fro on both sides。 But the wolf got off into the bushes； and not one of the party succeeded in coming across him。
Chapter 5
NIKOLAY ROSTOV was standing meanwhile at his post waiting for the wolf。 He was aware of what must be taking place within the copse from the rush of the pack coming closer and going further away； from the cries of the dogs； whose notes were familiar to him； from the nearness； and then greater remoteness； and sudden raising of the voices of the huntsmen。 He knew that there were both young and also old wolves in the enclosure。 He knew the hounds had divided into two packs； that in one place they were close on the wolf； and that something had gone wrong。 Every second he expected the wolf on his side。 He made a thousand different suppositions of how and at what spot the wolf would run out； and how he would set upon it。 Hope was succeeded by despair。 Several times he prayed to God that the wolf would rush out upon him。 He prayed with that feeling of passion and compunction with which men pray in moments of intense emotion due to trivial causes。 “Why； what is it to Thee；” he said to God； “to do this for me？ I know Thou art great and that it’s a sin to pray to Thee about this； but for God’s sake do make the old wolf come out upon me； and make Karay fix his teeth in his throat and finish him before the eyes of ‘uncle；’ who is looking this way。” A thousand times over in that half…hour； with intent； strained； and uneasy eyes Rostov scanned the thickets at the edge of the copse with two scraggy oaks standing up above the undergrowth of aspen； and the ravine with its overhanging bank； and “uncle’s” cap peering out from behind a bush on the right。 “No； that happiness is not to be；” thought Rostov； “yet what would it cost Him！ It’s not to be！ I’m always unlucky； at cards； in war； and everything。” Austerlitz and Dolohov flashed in distinct but rapid succession through his imagination。 “Only once in my life to kill an old wolf； I ask for nothing beyond！” he thought； straining eyes and ears； looking from left to right； and back again； and listening to the slightest fluctuations in the sounds of the dogs。 He looked again to the right and saw something running across the open ground towards him。 “No； it can’t be！” thought Rostov； taking a deep breath； as a man does at the coming of what he has long been hoping for。 The greatest piece of luck had come to him； and so simply； without noise； or flourish； or display to signalise it。 Rostov could not believe his eyes； and this uncertainty lasted more than a second。 The wolf was running forward； he leaped clumsily over a rut that lay across his path。
It was an old wolf with a grey back and full； reddish belly。 He was running without haste； plainly feeling secure of being unseen。 Rostov held his breath and looked round at the dogs。 They were lying and standing about； not seeing the wolf and quite unaware of him。 Old Karay had his head turned round； and was angrily searching for a flea； snapping his yellow teeth on his haunches。 “Loo！ loo！ loo！” Rostov whispered； pouting out his lips。 The dogs leaped up； jingling the iron rings of the leashes； and pricked up their ears。 Karay scratched his hind…leg and got up； pricking up his ears and wagging his tail； on which there were hanging matted locks of his coat。
“Loose them？ or not loose them？” Nikolay said to himself as the wolf moved away from the copse towards him。 All at once the whole physiognomy of the wolf was transformed。 He started； seeing—probably for the first time—human eyes fixed upon him； and； turning his head a little towards Rostov； stood still； in doubt whether to go back or forward。 “Ay！ Never mind； forward！…” the wolf seemed to be saying to himself； and he pushed on ahead； without looking round； softly and not rapidly； with an easy but resolute movement。 “Loo！ loo！…” Nikolay cried in a voice not his own； and of its own accord his gallant horse galloped at break…neck pace downhill； and leaped over the watercourse to cut off the wolf’s retreat； the hounds dashed on even more swiftly； overtaking it。
Nikolay did not hear his own cry； he had no consciousness of galloping； he saw neither the dogs nor the ground over which he galloped。 He saw nothing but the wolf； which； quickening its pac
