战争与和平(上)-第47章

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as　serving；　to　turn　back　to　the　bridge。
“Yes；　it　really　is　so；”　thought　Rostov；　“he　wants　to　test　me！”　His　heart　throbbed　and　the　blood　rushed　to　his　face。　“Let　him　see　whether　I’m　a　coward！”　he　thought。
Again　all　the　light…hearted　faces　of　the　men　of　the　squadron　wore　that　grave　line；　which　had　come　upon　them　when　they　were　under　fire。　Rostov　looked　steadily　at　his　enemy；　the　colonel；　trying　to　find　confirmation　of　his　suppositions　on　his　face。　But　the　colonel　never　once　glanced　at　Rostov；　and　looked；　as　he　always　did　at　the　front；　stern　and　solemn。　The　word　of　command　was　given。
“Look　sharp！　look　sharp！”　several　voices　repeated　around　him。
Their　swords　catching　in　the　reins　and　their　spurs　jingling；　the　hussars　dismounted　in　haste；　not　knowing　themselves　what　they　were　to　do。　The　soldiers　crossed　themselves。　Rostov　did　not　look　at　the　colonel　now；　he　had　no　time。　He　dreaded；　with　a　sinking　heart　he　dreaded；　being　left　behind　by　the　hussars。　His　hand　trembled　as　he　gave　his　horse　to　an　orderly；　and　he　felt　that　the　blood　was　rushing　to　his　heart　with　a　thud。　Denisov；　rolling　backwards；　and　shouting　something；　rode　by　him。　Rostov　saw　nothing　but　the　hussars　running　around　him；　clinking　spurs　and　jingling　swords。
“Stretchers！”　shouted　a　voice　behind　him。　Rostov　did　not　think　of　the　meaning　of　the　need　of　stretchers。　He　ran　along；　trying　only　to　be　ahead　of　all。　But　just　at　the　bridge；　not　looking　at　his　feet；　he　got　into　the　slippery；　trodden　mud；　and　stumbling　fell　on　his　hands。　The　others　out…stripped　him。
“On　both　sides；　captain；”　he　heard　shouted　by　the　colonel；　who；　riding　on　ahead；　had　pulled　his　horse　up　near　the　bridge；　with　a　triumphant　and　cheerful　face。
Rostov；　rubbing　his　muddy　hands　on　his　riding…breeches；　looked　round　at　his　enemy；　and　would　have　run　on　further；　imagining　that　the　forwarder　he　went　the　better　it　would　be。　But　though　Bogdanitch　was　not　looking；　and　did　not　recognise　Rostov；　he　shouted　to　him。
“Who　will　go　along　the　middle　of　the　bridge？　On　the　right　side？　Ensign；　back！”　he　shouted　angrily；　and　he　turned　to　Denisov；　who　with　swaggering　bravado　rode　on　horseback　on　to　the　planks　of　the　bridge。
“Why　run　risks；　captain？　You　should　dismount；”　said　the　colonel。
“Eh！　it’ll　strike　the　guilty　one；”　said　Vaska　Denisov；　turning　in　his　saddle。
Meanwhile　Nesvitsky；　Zherkov；　and　the　officer　of　the　suite　were　standing　together　out　of　range　of　the　enemy；　watching　the　little　group　of　men　in　yellow　shakoes；　dark…green　jackets；　embroidered　with　frogs；　and　blue　riding…breeches；　swarming　about　the　bridge；　and　on　the　other　side　of　the　river　the　blue　tunics　and　the　groups　with　horses；　that　might　so　easily　be　taken　for　guns；　approaching　in　the　distance。
“Will　they　burn　the　bridge　or　not？　Who’ll　get　there　first？　Will　they　run　there　and　burn　it；　or　the　French　train　their　grape…shot　on　them　and　kill　them？”　These　were　the　questions　that；　with　a　sinking　of　the　heart；　each　man　was　asking　himself　in　the　great　mass　of　troops　overlooking　the　bridge。　In　the　brilliant　evening　sunshine　they　gazed　at　the　bridge　and　the　hussars　and　at　the　blue　tunics；　with　bayonets　and　guns；　moving　up　on　the　other　side。
“Ugh！　The　hussars　will　be　caught；”　said　Nesvitsky。　“They’re　not　out　of　range　of　grape…shot　now。”
“He　did　wrong　to　take　so　many　men；”　said　the　officer　of　the　suite。
“Yes；　indeed；”　said　Nesvitsky。　“If　he’d　sent　two　bold　fellows　it　would　have　done　as　well。”
“Ah；　your　excellency；”　put　in　Zherkov；　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　hussars；　though　he　still　spoke　with　his　na？ve　manner；　from　which　one　could　not　guess　whether　he　were　speaking　seriously　or　not。　“Ah；　your　excellency。　How　you　look　at　things。　Send　two　men；　but　who　would　give　us　the　Vladimir　and　ribbon　then？　But　as　it　is；　even　if　they　do　pepper　them；　one　can　represent　the　squadron　and　receive　the　ribbon　oneself。　Our　good　friend　Bogdanitch　knows　the　way　to　do　things。”
“I　say；”　said　the　officer　of　the　suite；　“that’s　grape…shot。”
He　pointed　to　the　French　guns；　which　had　been　taken　out　of　the　gun…carriages；　and　were　hurriedly　moving　away。
On　the　French　side；　smoke　rose　among　the　groups　that　had　cannons。　One　puff；　a　second　and　a　third　almost　at　the　same　instant；　and　at　the　very　moment　when　they　heard　the　sound　of　the　first　shot；　there　rose　the　smoke　of　a　fourth；　two　booms　came　one　after　another；　then　a　third。
“Oh；　oh！”　moaned　Nesvitsky；　clutching　at　the　hand　of　the　officer　of　the　suite；　as　though　in　intense　pain。　“Look；　a　man　has　fallen；　fallen；　fallen！”
“Two；　I　think。”
“If　I　were　Tsar；　I’d　never　go　to　war；”　said　Nesvitsky；　turning　away。
The　French　cannons　were　speedily　loaded　again。　The　infantry　in　their　blue　tunics　were　running　towards　the　bridge。　Again　the　puffs　of　smoke　rose　at　different　intervals；　and　the　grape…shot　rattled　and　cracked　on　the　bridge。　But　this　time　Nesvitsky　could　not　see　what　was　happening　at　the　bridge。　A　thick　cloud　of　smoke　had　risen　from　it。　The　hussars　had　succeeded　in　setting　fire　to　the　bridge；　and　the　French　batteries　were　firing　at　them　now；　not　to　hinder　them；　but　because　their　guns　had　been　brought　up　and　they　had　some　one　to　fire　at。
The　French　had　time　to　fire　three　volleys　of　grape…shot　before　the　hussars　got　back　to　their　horses。　Two　were　badly　aimed；　and　the　shot　flew　over　them；　but　the　last　volley　fell　in　the　middle　of　the　group　of　hussars　and　knocked　down　three　men。
Rostov；　absorbed　by　his　relations　with　Bogdanitch；　stepped　on　the　bridge；　not　knowing　what　he　had　to　do。　There　was　no　one　to　slash　at　with　his　sword　（that　was　how　he　always　pictured　a　battle　to　himself）；　and　he　could　be　of　no　use　in　burning　the　bridge；　because　he　had　not　brought　with　him　any　wisps　of　straw；　like　the　other　soldiers。　He　stood　and　looked　about　him；　when　suddenly　there　was　a　rattle　on　the　bridge；　like　a　lot　of　nuts　being　scattered；　and　one　of　the　hussars；　the　one　standing　nearest　him；　fell　with　a　groan　on　the　railing。　Rostov　ran　up　to　him　with　the　others。　Again　some　one　shouted。　“Stretchers！”　Four　men　took　hold　of　the　hussar　and　began　lifting　him　up。　“Oooo！　…　Let　me　be；　for　Christ’s　sake！”　shrieked　the　wounded　man；　but　still　they　lifted　him　up　and　laid　him　on　a　stretcher。　Nikolay　Rostov　turned　away；　and　began　staring　into　the　distance；　at　the　waters　of　the　Danube；　at　the　sky；　at　the　sun；　as　though　he　were　searching　for　something。　How　fair　that　sky　seemed；　how　blue　and　calm　and　deep。　How　brilliant　and　triumphant　seemed　the　setting　sun。　With　what　an　enticing　glimmer　shone　the　water　of　the　faraway　Danube。　And　fairer　still　were　the　far…away　mountains　that　showed　blue　beyond　the　Danube；　the　nunnery；　the　mysterious　gorges；　the　pine　forests；　filled　with　mist　to　the　tree…tops　…　there　all　was　peace　and　happiness。…　“There　is　nothing；　nothing　I　could　wish　for；　if　only　I　were　there；”　thought　Rostov。　“In　myself　alone　and　in　that　sunshine　there　is　so　much　happiness；　while　here　…　groans；　agonies；　and　this　uncertainty；　this　hurry。…　Here　they　are　shouting　something　again　and　again；　all　of　them　are　running　back　somewhere；　and　I’m　running　with　them；　and　here　is　it；　it；　death　hanging　over　me；　all　round　me。…　One　instant；　and　I　shall　never　see　that　sunshine；　that　water；　that　mountain　gorge　again。…”　At　that　moment　the　sun　went　behind　the　clouds；　more　stretchers　came　into　view　ahead　of　Rostov。　And　the　terror　of　death　and　of　the　stretchers；　and　the　loss　of　the　sunshine　and　life；　all　blended　into　one　sensation　of　sickening　fear。
“Good　God；　Thou　who　art　in　that　sky；　save　and　forgive；　and　protect　me；”　Rostov　whispered　to　himself。
The　hussars　ran　back　to　their　horses；　their　voices　grew　louder　and　more　assured；　the　stretchers　disappeared　from　sight。
“Well；　lad；　so　you’ve　had　a　sniff　of　powder！”　Vaska　Denisov　shouted　in　his　ear。
“It’s　all　over；　but　I　am　a　coward；　yes；　I　am　a　coward；”　thought　Rostov；　and　with　a　heavy　sigh　he　took　his　Rook；　who　had　begun　to　go　lame　of　one　leg；　from　the　man　who　held　him　and　began　mounting。
“What　was　that—grape…shot？”　he　asked　of　Denisov。
“Yes；　and　something　like　it　too；”　cried　Denisov；　“they　worked　their　guns　in　fine　style。　But　it’s　a　nasty　business。　A　cavalry　attack’s　a　pleasant　thing—slash　away　at　the　dogs；　but　this　is　for　all　the　devil　like　aiming　at　a　target。”
And　Denisov