战争与和平(上)-第272章

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ops　into　that　region。　But　instead　of　what　had　invariably　happened　in　all　their　previous　battles；　instead　of　hearing　that　the　enemy　were　in　flight；　the　disciplined　masses　of　troops　came　back　in　undisciplined；　panic…stricken　crowds。　They　formed　them　in　good　order　again；　but　their　number　was　steadily　dwindling。　In　the　middle　of　the　day　Murat　sent　his　adjutant　to　Napoleon　with　a　request　for　reinforcements。
Napoleon　was　sitting　under　the　redoubt；　drinking　punch；　when　Murat’s　adjutant　galloped　to　him　with　the　message　that　the　Russians　would　be　routed　if　his　majesty　would　let　them　have　another　division。
“Reinforcements？”　said　Napoleon；　with　stern　astonishment；　staring；　as　though　failing　to　comprehend　his　words；　at　the　handsome；　boyish　adjutant；　who　wore　his　black　hair　in　floating　curls；　like　Murat’s　own。　“Reinforcements！”　thought　Napoleon。　“How　can　they　want　reinforcements　when　they　have　half　the　army　already；　concentrated　against　one　weak；　unsupported　flank　of　the　Russians？”
“Tell　the　King　of　Naples；”　said　Napoleon　sternly；　“that　it　is　not　midday；　and　I　don’t　yet　see　clearly　over　my　chess…board。　You　can　go。”
The　handsome；　boyish　adjutant　with　the　long　curls　heaved　a　deep　sigh；　and　still　holding　his　hand　to　his　hat；　galloped　back　to　the　slaughter。
Napoleon　got　up；　and　summoning　Caulaincourt　and　Berthier；　began　conversing　with　them　of　matters　not　connected　with　the　battle。
In　the　middle　of　the　conversation；　which　began　to　interest　Napoleon；　Berthier’s　eye　was　caught　by　a　general；　who　was　galloping　on　a　steaming　horse　to　the　redoubt；　followed　by　his　suite。　It　was　Beliard。　Dismounting　from　his　horse；　he　walked　rapidly　up　to　the　Emperor；　and；　in　a　loud　voice；　began　boldly　explaining　the　absolute　necessity　of　reinforcements。　He　swore　on　his　honour　that　the　Russians　would　be　annihilated　if　the　Emperor　would　let　them　have　another　division。
Napoleon　shrugged　his　shoulders；　and　continued　walking　up　and　down；　without　answering。　Beliard　began　loudly　and　eagerly　talking　with　the　generals　of　the　suite　standing　round　him。
“You　are　very　hasty；　Beliard；”　said　Napoleon；　going　back　again　to　him。　“It　is　easy　to　make　a　mistake　in　the　heat　of　the　fray。　Go　and　look　again　and　then　come　to　me。”　Before　Beliard　was　out　of　sight　another　messenger　came　galloping　up　from　another　part　of　the　battlefield。
“Well；　what　is　it　now？”　said　Napoleon；　in　the　tone　of　a　man　irritated　by　repeated　interruptions。
“Sire；　the　prince　…”　began　the　adjutant。
“Asks　for　reinforcements？”　said　Napoleon；　with　a　wrathful　gesture。　The　adjutant　bent　his　head　affirmatively　and　was　proceeding　to　give　his　message；　but　the　Emperor　turned　and　walked　a　couple　of　steps　away；　stopped；　turned　back；　and　beckoned　to　Berthier。　“We　must　send　the　reserves；”　he　said　with　a　slight　gesticulation。　“Whom　shall　we　send　there？　what　do　you　think？”　he　asked　Berthier；　that　“gosling　I　have　made　an　eagle；”　as　he　afterwards　called　him。
“Claparède’s　division；　sire；”　said　Berthier；　who　knew　all　the　divisions；　regiments；　and　battalions　by　heart。
Napoleon　nodded　his　head　in　assent。
The　adjutant　galloped　off　to　Claparède’s　division。　And　a　few　moments　later　the　Young　Guards；　stationed　behind　the　redoubt；　were　moving　out。　Napoleon　gazed　in　that　direction　in　silence。
“No；”　he　said　suddenly　to　Berthier；　“I　can’t　send　Claparède。　Send　Friant’s　division。”
Though　there　was　no　advantage　of　any　kind　in　sending　Friant’s　division　rather　than　Claparède’s；　and　there　was　obvious　inconvenience　and　delay　now　in　turning　back　Claparède　and　despatching　Friant；　the　order　was　carried　out。　Napoleon　did　not　see　that　in　relation　to　his　troops　he　played　the　part　of　the　doctor；　whose　action　in　hindering　the　course　of　nature　with　his　nostrums　he　so　truly　gauged　and　condemned。
Friant’s　division　vanished　like　the　rest　into　the　smoke　of　the　battlefield。　Adjutants　still　kept　galloping　up　from　every　side；　and　all；　as　though　in　collusion；　said　the　same　thing。　All　asked　for　reinforcements；　all　told　of　the　Russians　standing　firm　and　keeping　up　a　hellish　fire；　under　which　the　French　troops　were　melting　away。
Napoleon　sat　on　a　camp…stool；　plunged　in　thought。　M。　de　Beausset；　the　reputed　lover　of　travel；　had　been　fasting　since　early　morning；　and　approaching　the　Emperor；　he　ventured　respectfully　to　suggest　breakfast　to　his　majesty。
“I　hope　that　I　can　already　congratulate　your　majesty　on　a　victory；”　he　said。
Napoleon　shook　his　head。　Supposing　the　negative　to　refer　to　the　victory　only　and　not　to　the　breakfast；　M。　de　Beausset　permitted　himself　with　respectful　playfulness　to　observe　that　there　was　no　reason　in　the　world　that　could　be　allowed　to　interfere　with　breakfast　when　breakfast　was　possible。
“Go　to　the…”　Napoleon　jerked　out　gloomily；　and　he　turned　his　back　on　him。　A　saintly　smile　of　sympathy；　regret；　and　ecstasy　beamed　on　M。　de　Beausset’s　face　as　he　moved　with　his　swinging　step　back　to　the　other　generals。
Napoleon　was　experiencing　the　bitter　feeling　of　a　lucky　gambler；　who；　after　recklessly　staking　his　money　and　always　winning；　suddenly　finds；　precisely　when　he　has　carefully　reckoned　up　all　contingencies；　that　the　more　he　considers　his　course；　the　more　certain　he　is　of　losing。
The　soldiers　were　the　same；　the　generals　the　same；　there　had　been　the　same　preparations；　the　same　disposition；　the　same　proclamation；　“court　et　énergique。”　He　was　himself　the　same；—he　knew　that；　he　knew　that　he　was　more　experienced　and　skilful　indeed　now　than　he　had　been　of　old。　The　enemy　even　was　the　same　as　at　Austerlitz　and　Friedland。　But　the　irresistible　wave　of　his　hand　seemed　robbed　of　its　might　by　magic。
All　the　old　man？uvres　that　had　invariably　been　crowned　with　success：　the　concentration　of　the　battery　on　one　point；　and　the　advance　of　the　reserves　to　break　the　line；　and　the　cavalry　attack　of　“men　of　iron；”　all　these　resources　had　been　employed；　and　far　from　victory　being　secure；　from　all　sides　the　same　tidings　kept　pouring　in　of　killed　or　wounded　generals；　of　reinforcements　needed；　of　the　troops　being　in　disorder；　and　the　Russians　impossible　to　move。
Hitherto；　after　two　or　three　orders　being　given；　two　or　three　phrases　delivered；　marshals　and　adjutants　had　galloped　up　with　radiant　faces　and　congratulations；　announcing　the　capture　as　trophies　of　whole　corps　of　prisoners；　of　bundles　of　flags　and　eagles；　of　cannons　and　stores；　and　Murat　had　asked　leave　to　let　the　cavalry　go　to　capture　the　baggage。　So　it　had　been　at　Lodi；　Marengo；　Arcole；　Jena；　Austerlitz；　Wagram；　and　so　on；　and　so　on。　But　now　something　strange　was　coming　over　his　men。
In　spite　of　the　news　of　the　capture　of　the　flèches；　Napoleon　saw　that　things　were　not　the　same；　not　at　all　the　same　as　at　previous　battles。　He　saw　that　what　he　was　feeling；　all　the　men　round　him；　experienced　in　military　matters；　were　feeling　too。　All　their　faces　were　gloomy；　all　avoided　each　others’　eyes。　It　was　only　a　Beausset　who　could　fail　to　grasp　the　import　of　what　was　happening。　Napoleon　after　his　long　experience　of　war　knew　very　well　all　that　was　meant　by　an　unsuccessful　attack　after　eight　hours’　straining　every　possible　effort。　He　knew　that　this　was　almost　equivalent　to　a　defeat；　and　that　the　merest　chance　might　now；　in　the　critical　point　the　battle　was　in；　be　the　overthrow　of　himself　and　his　troops。
When　he　went　over　in　his　own　mind　all　this　strange　Russian　campaign；　in　which　not　a　single　victory　had　been　gained；　in　which　not　a　flag；　nor　a　cannon；　nor　a　corps　had　been　taken　in　two　months；　when　he　looked　at　the　concealed　gloom　in　the　faces　round　him；　and　heard　reports　that　the　Russians　still　held　their　ground—a　terrible　feeling；　such　as　is　experienced　in　a　nightmare；　came　over　him；　and　all　the　unlucky　contingencies　occurred　to　him　that　might　be　his　ruin。　The　Russians　might　fall　upon　his　left　wing；　might　break　through　his　centre；　a　stray　ball　might　even　kill　himself。　All　that　was　possible。　In　his　former　battles　he　had　only　considered　the　possibilities　of　success；　now　an　immense　number　of　unlucky　chances　presented　themselves；　and　he　expected　them　all。　Yes；　it　was　like　a　nightmare；　when　a　man　dreams　that　an　assailant　is　attacking　him；　and　in　his　dream　he　lifts　up　his　arm　and　deals　a　blow　with　a　force　at　his　assailant　that　he　knows　must　crush　him；　and　feels　that　h