战争与和平(上)-第273章

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is　arm　and　deals　a　blow　with　a　force　at　his　assailant　that　he　knows　must　crush　him；　and　feels　that　his　arm　falls　limp　and　powerless　as　a　rag；　and　the　horror　of　inevitable　death　comes　upon　him　in　his　helplessness。
The　news　that　the　Russians　were　attacking　the　left　flank　of　the　French　army　aroused　that　horror　in　Napoleon。　He　sat　in　silence　on　a　camp…stool　under　the　redoubt；　his　elbows　on　his　knees；　and　his　head　sunk　in　his　hands。　Berthier　came　up　to　him　and　suggested　that　they　should　inspect　the　lines　to　ascertain　the　position　of　affairs。
“What？　What　do　you　say？”　said　Napoleon。　“Yes；　tell　them　to　bring　my　horse。”　He　mounted　a　horse　and　rode　to　Semyonovskoye。
In　the　slowly　parting　smoke；　over　the　whole　plain　through　which　Napoleon　rode；　men　and　horses；　singly　and　in　heaps；　were　lying　in　pools　of　blood。　Such　a　fearful　spectacle；　so　great　a　mass　of　killed　in　so　small　a　space；　had　never　been　seen　by　Napoleon　nor　any　of　his　generals。　The　roar　of　the　cannon　that　had　not　ceased　for　ten　hours；　exhausted　the　ear　and　gave　a　peculiar　character　to　the　spectacle　（like　music　accompanying　living　pictures）。　Napoleon　rode　up　to　the　height　of　Semyonovskoye；　and　through　the　smoke　he　saw　ranks　of　soldiers　in　uniforms　of　unfamiliar　hues。　They　were　the　Russians。
The　Russians　stood　in　serried　ranks　behind　Semyonovskoye　and　the　redoubt；　and　their　guns　kept　up　an　incessant　roar　and　smoke　all　along　their　lines。　It　was　not　a　battle。　It　was　a　prolonged　massacre；　which　could　be　of　no　avail　either　to　French　or　Russians。　Napoleon　pulled　up　his　horse；　and　sank　again　into　the　brooding　reverie　from　which　Berthier　had　roused　him。　He　could　not　stay　that　thing　that　was　being　done　before　him　and　about　him；　and　that　was　regarded　as　being　led　by　him　and　as　depending　on　him；　that　thing　for　the　first　time；　after　ill　success；　struck　him　as　superfluous　and　horrible。　One　of　the　generals；　riding　up　to　Napoleon；　ventured　to　suggest　to　him　that　the　Old　Guards　should　advance　into　action。　Ney　and　Berthier；　standing　close　by；　exchanged　glances　and　smiled　contemptuously　at　the　wild　suggestion　of　this　general。
Napoleon　sat　mute　with　downcast　head。
“Eight　hundred　leagues　from　France；　I　am　not　going　to　let　my　Guard　be　destroyed；”　he　said；　and　turning　his　horse；　he　rode　back　to　Shevardino。


Chapter　35
KUTUZOV；　with　his　grey　head　hanging；　and　his　heavy；　corpulent　frame　sunk　into　a　heap；　was　sitting　on　a　bench　covered　with　a　rug；　in　the　same　place　in　which　Pierre　had　seen　him　in　the　morning。　He　issued　no　orders；　and　simply　gave　or　withheld　his　assent　to　what　was　proposed　to　him。
“Yes；　yes；　do　so；”　he　would　say　in　reply　to　various　suggestions。　“Yes；　yes；　go　across；　my　dear　boy；　and　see；”　he　would　cry　first　to　one　and　the　to　another　of　the　adjutants　near　him；　or；　“No；　better　not；　we’d　better　wait　a　bit；”　he　would　say。　He　listened　to　the　reports　brought　him；　and　gave　orders；　when　they　were　asked　for。　But　as　he　heard　the　reports；　he　seemed　to　take　little　interest　in　the　import　of　the　words　spoken；　something　else　in　the　expression　of　his　face；　in　the　tone　of　the　voice　of　the　speaker；　seemed　to　interest　him　more。　From　long　years　of　military　experience　he　had　learned；　and　with　the　wisdom　of　old　age　he　had　recognised；　that　one　man　cannot　guide　hundreds　of　thousands　of　men　struggling　with　death；　that　the　fate　of　battles　is　not　decided　by　the　orders　given　by　the　commander…in…chief；　nor　the　place　in　which　the　troops　are　stationed；　nor　the　number　of　cannons；　nor　of　killed；　but　by　that　intangible　force　called　the　spirit　of　the　army；　and　he　followed　that　force　and　led　it　as　far　as　it　lay　in　his　power。
The　general　expression　of　Kutuzov’s　face　was　concentrated；　quiet　attention　and　intensity；　with　difficulty　overcoming　his　weak　and　aged　body。
At　eleven　o’clock　they　brought　him　the　news　that　the　French　had　been　driven　back　again　from　the　flèches　they　had　captured；　but　that　Bagration　was　wounded。　Kutuzov　groaned；　and　shook　his　head。
“Ride　over　to　Prince　Pyotr　Ivanovitch　and　find　out　exactly　about　it；”　he　said　to　one　of　the　adjutants；　and　then　he　turned　to　the　Prince　of　Würtemberg；　who　was　standing　behind　him：
“Will　your　highness　be　pleased　to　take　the　command　of　the　first　army？”
Soon　after　the　prince’s　departure—so　soon　that　he　could　not　yet　have　reached　Semyonovskoye—his　adjutant　came　back　with　a　message　from　him　asking　Kutuzov　for　more　troops。
Kutuzov　frowned；　and　sent　Dohturov　orders　to　take　the　command　of　the　first　army；　and　begged　the　prince　to　come　back；　saying　that　he　found　he　could　not　get　on　without　him　at　such　an　important　moment。　When　news　was　brought　that　Murat　had　been　taken　prisoner；　and　the　members　of　the　staff　congratulated　Kutuzov；　he　smiled。
“Wait　a　little；　gentlemen；”　he　said。　“The　battle　is　won；　and　Murat’s　being　taken　prisoner　is　nothing　very　extraordinary。　But　we　had　better　defer　our　rejoicings。”　Still　he　sent　an　adjutant　to　take　the　news　to　the　troops。
When　Shtcherbinin　galloped　up　from　the　left　flank　with　the　report　of　the　capture　of　the　flèche；　and　Semyonovskoye　by　the　French；　Kutuzov；　guessing　from　the　sounds　of　the　battlefield　and　Shtcherbinin’s　face；　that　the　news　was　bad；　got　up　as　though　to　stretch　his　legs；　and　taking　Shtcherbinin　by　the　arm　drew　him　aside。
“You　go；　my　dear　boy；”　he　said　to　Yermolov；　“and　see　whether　something　can’t　be　done。”
Kutuzov　was　in　Gorky；　the　centre　of　the　Russian　position。　The　attack　on　our　left　flank　had　been　several　times　repulsed。　In　the　centre　the　French　did　not　advance　beyond　Borodino。　Uvarov’s　cavalry　had　sent　the　French　flying　from　the　left　flank。
At　three　o’clock　the　attacks　of　the　French　ceased。　On　the　faces　of　all　who　came　from　the　battlefield；　as　well　as　of　those　standing　round　him；　Kutuzov　read　an　expression　of　effort；　strained　to　the　utmost　tension。　He　was　himself　satisfied　with　the　success　of　the　day　beyond　his　expectations。　But　the　old　man’s　physical　force　was　failing　him。　Several　times　his　head　sank；　as　though　he　were　falling；　and　he　dropped　asleep。　Dinner　was　brought　him。
The　adjutant…general；　Woltzogen；　the　man　whom　Prince　Andrey　had　overheard　saying　that　the　war　ought　to　be　“im　Raum　verlegen；”　and　whom　Bagration　so　particularly　detested；　rode　up　to　Kutuzov　while　he　was　at　dinner。　Woltzogen　had　come　from　Barclay　to　report　on　the　progress　of　the　fight　on　the　left　flank。　The　sagacious　Barclay　de　Tolly；　seeing　crowds　of　wounded　men　running　back；　and　the　ranks　in　disorder；　and　weighing　all　the　circumstances　of　the　case；　made　up　his　mind　that　the　battle　was　lost；　and　sent　his　favourite　adjutant　to　the　commander…in…chief　to　tell　him　so。
Kutuzov　was　with　difficulty　chewing　roast　chicken；　and　his　eyes　were　screwed　up　with　a　more　cheerful　expression　as　he　glanced　at　Woltzogen。
With　a　half…contemptuous　smile　Woltzogen　walked　carelessly　up　to　Kutuzov；　scarcely　touching　the　peak　of　his　cap。
He　behaved　to　his　highness　with　a　certain　affected　negligence；　which　aimed　at　showing　that　he；　as　a　highly　trained　military　man；　left　it　to　the　Russians　to　make　a　prodigy　of　this　useless　old　person；　and　was　himself　well　aware　what　kind　of　a　man　he　had　to　deal　with。　“The　‘old　gentleman’　”　—this　was　how　Kutuzov　was　always　spoken　of　in　Woltzogen’s　German　circle—“is　making　himself　quite　comfortable；”　he　thought；　and　glancing　severely　at　the　dishes　before　Kutuzov；　he　began　reporting　to　the　old　gentleman　Barclay’s　message　and　his　own　impressions　and　views。　“Every　point　of　our　position　is　in　the　enemy’s　hands；　and　they　cannot　be　driven　back；　because　there　are　not　the　troops　to　do　it；　the　men　run　away　and　there’s　no　possibility　of　stopping　them；”　he　submitted。
Kutuzov；　stopping　short　in　his　munching；　stared　at　Woltzogen　in　amazement；　as　though　not　understanding　what　was　said　to　him。　Woltzogen；　noticing　the　old　gentleman’s　excitement；　said　with　a　smile：
“I　did　not　consider　I　had　a　right　to　conceal　from　your　highness　what　I　saw。…　The　troops　are　completely　routed。…”
“You　saw？　You　saw？…”　cried　Kutuzov；　getting　up　quickly；　and　stepping　up　to　Woltzogen。　“How…how　dare　you！…”　making　a　menacing　gesture　with　his　trembling　hands；　he　cried；　with　a　catch　in　his　breath：　“How　dare　you；　sir；　tell　me　that？　You　know　nothing　about　it。　Tell　General　Barclay　from　me　that　his　information　is　incorr