战争与和平(上)-第94章

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All　his　hopes　had　been　fulfilled　that　morning：　there　was　to　be　a　general　engagement；　he　was　taking　part　in　it；　more　than　that；　he　was　in　attendance　on　the　bravest　general；　more　than　that；　he　was　being　sent　on　a　commission　to　Kutuzov；　perhaps　even　to　the　Tsar　himself。　It　was　a　fine　morning；　he　had　a　good　horse　under　him；　his　heart　was　full　of　joy　and　happiness。　On　receiving　his　orders；　he　spurred　his　horse　and　galloped　along　the　line。　At　first　he　rode　along　the　line　of　Bagration’s　troops　which　had　not　yet　advanced　into　action；　and　were　standing　motionless；　then　he　rode　into　the　region　occupied　by　Uvarov’s　cavalry；　and　here　he　began　to　observe　activity　and　signs　of　preparation　for　battle。　After　he　had　passed　Uvarov’s　cavalry；　he　could　distinctly　hear　the　sound　of　musket…fire　and　the　booming　of　cannons　ahead　of　him。　The　firing　grew　louder　and　more　intense。
The　sound　that　reached　him　in　the　fresh　morning　air　was　not　now；　as　before；　the　report　of　two　or　three　shots　at　irregular　intervals；　and　then　one　or　two　cannons　booming。　Down　the　slopes　of　the　hillsides　before　Pratzen；　he　could　hear　volleys　of　musketry；　interspersed　with　such　frequent　shots　of　cannon　that　sometimes　several　booming　shots　could　not　be　distinguished　from　one　another；　but　melted　into　one　mingled　roar　of　sound。
He　could　see　the　puffs　of　musket　smoke　flying　down　the　hillsides；　as　though　racing　one　another；　while　the　cannon　smoke　hung　in　clouds；　that　floated　along　and　melted　into　one　another。　He　could　see；　from　the　gleam　of　bayonets　in　the　smoke；　that　masses　of　infantry　were　moving　down；　and　narrow　lines　of　artillery　with　green　caissons。
On　a　hillock　Rostov　stopped　his　horse　to　try　and　make　out　what　was　going　on。　But　however　much　he　strained　his　attention；　he　could　not　make　out　and　understand　what　he　saw；　there　were　men　of　some　sort　moving　about　there　in　the　smoke；　lines　of　troops　were　moving　both　backwards　and　forwards；　but　what　for？　Who？　where　were　they　going？　it　was　impossible　to　make　out。　This　sight；　and　these　sounds；　so　far　from　exciting　any　feeling　of　depression　or　timidity　in　him；　only　increased　his　energy　and　determination。
“Come；　fire　away；　at　them　again！”　was　his　mental　response　to　the　sounds　he　heard。　Again　he　galloped　along　the　line；　penetrating　further　and　further　into　the　part　where　the　troops　were　already　in　action。
“How　it　will　be　there；　I　don’t　know；　but　it　will　all　be　all　right！”　thought　Rostov。
After　passing　Austrian　troops　of　some　sort；　Rostov　noticed　that　the　next　part　of　the　forces　（they　were　the　guards）　had　already　advanced　into　action。
“So　much　the　better！　I　shall　see　it　close；”　he　thought。
He　was　riding　almost　along　the　front　line。　A　body　of　horsemen　came　galloping　towards　him。　They　were　a　troop　of　our　Uhlans　returning　in　disorder　from　the　attack。　Rostov；　as　he　passed　them；　could　not　help　noticing　one　of　them　covered　with　blood；　but　he　galloped　on。
“That’s　no　affair　of　mine！”　he　thought。
He　had　not　ridden　on　many　hundred　paces　further　when　there　came　into　sight；　on　his　left；　across　the　whole　extent　of　the　field；　an　immense　mass　of　cavalry　on　black　horses；　in　dazzling　white　uniforms；　trotting　straight　towards　him；　cutting　off　his　advance。　Rostov　put　his　horse　to　his　utmost　speed　to　get　out　of　the　way　of　these　cavalrymen；　and　he　would　have　cleared　them　had　they　been　advancing　at　the　same　rate；　but　they　kept　increasing　their　pace；　so　that　several　horses　broke　into　a　gallop。　More　and　more　loudly　Rostov　could　hear　the　thud　of　their　horses’　hoofs；　and　the　jingle　of　their　weapons；　and　more　and　more　distinctly　he　could　see　their　horses；　their　figures；　and　even　their　faces。　These　were　our　horse…guards；　charging　to　attack　the　French　cavalry；　who　were　advancing　to　meet　them。
The　cavalry　guards　were　galloping；　though　still　holding　in　their　horses。　Rostov　could　see　their　faces　now；　and　hear　the　word　of　command；　“Charge！”　uttered　by　an　officer；　as　he　let　his　thoroughbred　go　at　full　speed。　Rostov；　in　danger　of　being　trampled　underfoot　or　carried　away　to　attack　the　French；　galloped　along　before　their　line　as　fast　as　his　horse　could　go；　and　still　he　was　not　in　time　to　escape　them。
The　last　of　the　line　of　cavalry；　a　pock…marked　man　of　immense　stature；　scowled　viciously　on　seeing　Rostov　just　in　front　of　him；　where　he　must　inevitably　come　into　collision　with　him。　This　horse…guard　would　infallibly　have　overturned　Rostov　and　his　Bedouin　（Rostov　felt　himself　so　little　and　feeble　beside　these　gigantic　men　and　horses）　if　he　had　not　bethought　himself　of　striking　the　horse…guard’s　horse　in　the　face　with　his　riding…whip。　The　heavy；　black；　high　horse　twitched　its　ears　and　reared；　but　its　pock…marked　rider　brought　it　down　with　a　violent　thrust　of　the　spurs　into　its　huge　sides；　and　the　horse；　lashing　its　tail　and　dragging　its　neck；　flew　on　faster　than　ever。　The　horse…guard　had　hardly　passed　Rostov　when　he　heard　their　shout；　“Hurrah！”　and　looking　round　saw　their　foremost　ranks　mixed　up　with　some　strange　cavalry；　in　red　epaulettes；　probably　French。　He　could　see　nothing　more；　for　immediately　after　cannons　were　fired　from　somewhere；　and　everything　was　lost　in　the　smoke。
At　the　moment　when　the　horse…guards　passing　him　vanished　into　the　smoke；　Rostov　hesitated　whether　to　gallop　after　them　or　to　go　on　where　he　had　to　go。　This　was　the　brilliant　charge　of　the　horse…guards　of　which　the　French　themselves　expressed　their　admiration。　Rostov　was　appalled　to　hear　afterwards　that　of　all　that　mass　of　huge；　fine　men；　of　all　those　brilliant；　rich　young　officers　and　ensigns　who　had　galloped　by　him　on　horses　worth　thousands　of　roubles。　only　eighteen　were　left　after　the　charge。
“I　have　no　need　to　envy　them；　my　share　won’t　be　taken　from　me；　and　may　be　I　shall　see　the　Emperor　in　a　minute！”　thought　Rostov；　and　he　galloped　on。
When　he　reached　the　infantry　of　the　guards；　he　noticed　that　cannon　balls　were　flying　over　and　about　them；　not　so　much　from　the　sound　of　the　cannon　balls；　as　from　the　uneasiness　he　saw　in　the　faces　of　the　soldiers　and　the　unnatural；　martial　solemnity　on　the　faces　of　the　officers。
As　he　rode　behind　one　of　the　lines　of　the　regiments　of　footguards；　he　heard　a　voice　calling　him　by　name：　“Rostov！”
“Eh？”　he　called　back；　not　recognising　Boris。
“I　say；　we’ve　been　in　the　front　line！　Our　regiment　marched　to　the　attack！”　said　Boris；　smiling　that　happy　smile　that　is　seen　in　young　men　who　have　been　for　the　first　time　under　fire。　Rostov　stopped。
“Really！”　he　said。　“Well；　how　was　it？”
“We　beat　them！”　said　Boris；　growing　talkative　in　his　eagerness。　“You　can　fancy　…”　And　Boris　began　describing　how　the　guards　having　taken　up　their　position；　and　seeing　troops　in　front　of　them　had　taken　them　for　Austrians；　and　all　at　once　had　found　out　from　the　cannon　balls　aimed　at　them　from　those　troops　that　they　were　in　the　front　line；　and　had　quite　unexpectedly　to　advance　to　battle。　Rostov　set　his　horse　moving　without　waiting　to　hear　Boris　to　the　end。
“Where　are　you　off　to？”　asked　Boris。
“To　his　majesty　with　a　commission。”
“Here　he　is！”　said　Boris；　who　had　not　caught　what　Rostov　said；　and　thinking　it　was　the　grand　duke　he　wanted；　he　pointed　him　out；　standing　a　hundred　paces　from　them；　wearing　a　helmet　and　a　horse…guard’s　white　elk　tunic；　with　his　high　shoulders　and　scowling　brows；　shouting　something　to　a　pale；　white…uniformed　Austrian　officer。
“Why；　that’s　the　grand　duke；　and　I　must　see　the　commander…in…chief　or　the　Emperor；”　said　Rostov；　and　he　was　about　to　start　again。
“Count；　count！”　shouted　Berg；　running　up　on　the　other　side；　as　eager　as　Boris。　“I　was　wounded　in　my　right　hand”　（he　pointed　to　his　blood…stained　hand；　bound　up　with　a　pocket…handkerchief）；　“and　I　kept　my　place　in　the　front。　Count；　I　held　my　sabre　in　my　left　hand。　All　my　family；　count；　the　Von　Bergs；　have　been　knights。”　Berg　would　have　said　more；　but　Rostov　rode　on　without　listening。
After　riding　by　the　guards；　and　on　through　an　empty　space；　Rostov　rode　along　the　line　of　the　reserves　for　fear　of　getting　in　the　way　of　the　front　line；　as　he　had　done　in　the　charge　of　the　horse…guards；　and　made　a　wide　circuit　round　the　place　where　he　heard　the　hottest　musket…fire　and　cannonade。　All　of　a　sudden；　in　front　of　him　and　behind　our　troops；　in　a　place　where　he　could　never　have　expected