战争与和平(上)-第97章

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One　of　the　hindmost　cannons　that　had　been　got　on　to　the　dam　was　turned　off　upon　the　ice。　Crowds　of　soldiers　began　running　from　the　dam　on　to　the　frozen　pond。　The　ice　cracked　under　one　of　the　foremost　soldiers；　and　one　leg　slipped　into　the　water。　He　tried　to　right　himself　and　floundered　up　to　his　waist。　The　soldiers　nearest　tried　to　draw　back；　the　driver　of　the　cannon　pulled　up　his　horse；　but　still　the　shouts　were　heard　from　behind：　“Get　on　to　the　ice；　why　are　you　stopping？　go　on！　go　on！”　And　screams　of　terror　were　heard　in　the　crowd。　The　soldiers　near　the　cannon　waved　at　the　horses；　and　lashed　them　to　make　them　turn　and　go　on。　The　horses　moved　from　the　dam’s　edge。　The　ice　that　had　held　under　the　foot…soldiers　broke　in　a　huge　piece；　and　some　forty　men　who　were　on　it　dashed；　some　forwards；　some　backwards；　drowning　one　another。
Still　the　cannon　balls　whizzed　as　regularly　and　thumped　on　to　the　ice；　into　the　water；　and　most　often　into　the　crowd　that　covered　the　dam；　the　pond　and　the　bank。


Chapter　19
PRINCE　ANDREY　BOLKONSKY　was　lying　on　the　hill　of　Pratzen；　on　the　spot　where　he　had　fallen　with　the　flagstaff　in　his　hands。　He　was　losing　blood；　and　kept　moaning　a　soft；　plaintive；　childish　moan；　of　which　he　himself　knew　nothing。　Towards　evening　he　ceased　moaning　and　became　perfectly　still。　He　did　not　know　how　long　his　unconsciousness　lasted。　Suddenly　he　felt　again　that　he　was　alive　and　suffering　from　a　burning；　lacerating　pain　in　his　head。
“Where　is　it；　that　lofty　sky　that　I　knew　not　till　now　and　saw　to…day？”　was　his　first　thought。　“And　this　agony　I　did　not　know　either；”　he　thought。　“Yes；　I　knew　nothing；　nothing　till　now。　But　where　am　I？”
He　fell　to　listening；　and　caught　the　sound　of　approaching　hoofs　and　voices　speaking　French。　He　opened　his　eyes。　Above　him　was　again　the　same　lofty　sky；　with　clouds　higher　than　ever　floating　over　it；　and　between　them　stretches　of　blue　infinity。　He　did　not　turn　his　head　and　did　not　see　the　men　who；　judging　from　the　voices　and　the　thud　of　hoofs；　had　ridden　up　to　him　and　stopped。
They　were　Napoleon　and　two　adjutants　escorting　him。　Bonaparte；　making　a　tour　of　the　field　of　battle；　had　been　giving　his　last　instructions　for　the　strengthening　of　the　battery　firing　at　the　Augest　dam；　and　was　inspecting　the　dead　and　wounded　on　the　field　of　battle。
“Fine　men！”　said　Napoleon；　looking　at　a　dead　Russian　grenadier；　who　with　his　face　thrust　into　the　earth　and　blackened　neck　lay　on　his　stomach；　one　stiff　arm　flung　wide。
“The　field…guns　have　exhausted　their　ammunition；”　said　an　adjutant；　arriving　that　moment　from　the　battery　that　was　firing　at　Augest。
“Bring　up　more　from　the　reserve；”　said　Napoleon；　and　riding　a　few　steps　away　stood　still；　looking　at　Prince　Andrey；　who　lay　on　his　back　with　the　abandoned　flagstaff　beside　him　（the　flag　had　been　taken　by　the　French　as　a　trophy）。
“That’s　a　fine　death！”　said　Napoleon；　looking　at　Bolkonsky。　Prince　Andrey　knew　that　it　was　said　of　him；　and　that　it　was　Napoleon　saying　it。　He　heard　the　speaker　of　those　words　addressed　as　“your　majesty。”　But　he　heard　the　words　as　he　heard　the　buzzing　of　flies。　It　was　not　merely　that　he　took　no　interest　in　them；　but　he　did　not　attend　to　them　and　at　once　forgot　them。　There　was　a　burning　pain　in　his　head；　he　felt　he　was　losing　blood；　and　he　saw　above　him　the　high；　far…away；　everlasting　sky。　He　knew　it　was　Napoleon—his　hero—but　at　that　moment　Napoleon　seemed　to　him　such　a　small；　insignificant　creature　in　comparison　with　what　was　passing　now　between　his　soul　and　that　lofty；　limitless　sky　with　the　clouds　flying　over　it。　It　meant　nothing　to　him　at　that　moment　who　was　standing　over　him；　what　was　being　said　of　him。　He　was　only　glad　that　people　were　standing　over　him；　and　his　only　desire　was　that　these　people　should　help　him　and　bring　him　back　to　life；　which　seemed　to　him　so　good；　because　he　saw　it　all　quite　differently　now。　He　made　a　supreme　effort　to　stir　and　utter　some　sound。　He　moved　his　leg　faintly；　and　uttered　a　weak；　sickly　moan　that　touched　himself。　“Ah；　he’s　alive；”　said　Napoleon。　“Pick　up　this　young　man　and　carry　him　to　an　ambulance！”　Saying　this；　Napoleon　rode　on　to　meet　Marshal　Lannes；　who　rode　up　to　meet　the　conqueror；　smiling；　taking　off　his　hat　and　congratulating　him　on　his　victory。
Prince　Andrey　remembered　nothing　more；　he　lost　consciousness　from　the　excruciating　pain　caused　by　being　laid　on　the　stretcher；　the　jolting　while　he　was　being　moved；　and　the　sounding　of　his　wound　at　the　ambulance。　He　only　regained　consciousness　towards　the　end　of　the　day　when　with　other　Russian　officers；　wounded　and　prisoners；　he　was　being　taken　to　the　hospital。　On　this　journey　he　felt　a　little　stronger；　and　could　look　about　him　and　even　speak。
The　first　words　he　heard　on　coming　to　himself　were　from　a　French　convoy　officer　who　was　saying　hurriedly：　“They　must　stop　here；　the　Emperor　will　be　here　directly；　it　will　be　a　pleasure　for　him　to　see　these　prisoners。”
“There　are　such　a　lot　of　prisoners　to…day；　almost　the　whole　of　the　Russian　army；　that　he　is　probably　weary　of　seeing　them；”　said　another　officer。
“Well；　but　this　one；　they　say；　is　the　commander　of　all　the　Emperor　Alexander’s　guards；”　said　the　first　speaker；　pointing　to　a　wounded　Russian　officer　in　the　white　uniform　of　the　horse…guards。　Bolkonsky　recognised　Prince　Repnin；　whom　he　had　met　in　Petersburg　society。　Beside　him　stood　another　officer　of　the　horse…guards；　a　lad　of　nineteen；　also　wounded。
Bonaparte　rode　up　at　a　gallop　and　pulled　up。　“Who　is　the　senior　officer？”　he　said；　on　seeing　the　prisoners。
They　named　the　colonel；　Prince　Repnin。
“Are　you　the　commander　of　the　regiment　of　Emperor　Alexander’s　horse…guards？”　asked　Napoleon。
“I　was　in　command　of　a　squadron；”　replied　Repnin。
“Your　regiment　did　its　duty　honourably；”　said　Napoleon。
“The　praise　of　a　great　general　is　a　soldier’s　best　reward；”　said　Repnin。
“I　bestow　it　upon　you　with　pleasure；”　said　Napoleon。　“Who　is　this　young　man　beside　you？”　Prince　Repnin　gave　his　name；　Lieutenant　Suhtelen。
Looking　at　him；　Napoleon　said　with　a　smile：　“He　has　come　very　young　to　meddle　with　us。”
“Youth　is　no　hindrance　to　valour；”　said　Suhtelen　in　a　breaking　voice。
“A　fine　answer；”　said　Napoleon；　“young　man；　you　will　go　far。”
Prince　Andrey；　who　had　been　thrust　forward　under　the　Emperor’s　eyes　to　complete　the　show　of　prisoners；　could　not　fail　to　attract　his　notice。　Napoleon　apparently　remembered　seeing　him　on　the　field；　and　addressing　him　he　used　the　same　epithet；　“young　man；”　with　which　his　first　sight　of　Bolkonsky　was　associated　in　his　memory。
“And　you；　young　man；”　he　said　to　him；　“how　are　you　feeling；　mon　brave？”
Although　five　minutes　previously　Prince　Andrey　had　been　able　to　say　a　few　words　to　the　soldiers　who　were　carrying　him；　he　was　silent　now；　with　his　eyes　fastened　directly　upon　Napoleon。　So　trivial　seemed　to　him　at　that　moment　all　the　interests　that　were　engrossing　Napoleon；　so　petty　seemed　to　him　his　hero；　with　his　paltry　vanity　and　glee　of　victory；　in　comparison　with　that　lofty；　righteous；　and　kindly　sky　which　he　had　seen　and　comprehended；　that　he　could　not　answer　him。　And　all　indeed　seemed　to　him　so　trifling　and　unprofitable　beside　the　stern　and　solemn　train　of　thought　aroused　in　him　by　weakness　from　loss　of　blood；　by　suffering　and　the　nearness　of　death。　Gazing　into　Napoleon’s　eyes；　Prince　Andrey　mused　on　the　nothingness　of　greatness；　on　the　nothingness　of　life；　of　which　no　one　could　comprehend　the　significance；　and　on　the　nothingness—still　more—of　death；　the　meaning　of　which　could　be　understood　and　explained　by　none　of　the　living。
The　Emperor；　after　vainly　pausing　for　a　reply；　turned　away　and　said　to　one　of　the　officers　in　command—
“See　that　they　look　after　these　gentlemen　and　take　them　to　my　bivouac；　let　my　doctor　Larrey　attend　to　their　wounds。　Au　revoir；　Prince　Repnin；”　and　he　galloped　away。
His　face　was　radiant　with　happiness　and　self…satisfaction。
The　soldiers；　who　had　been　carrying　Prince　Andrey；　had　come　across　the　golden　relic　Princess　Marya　had　hung　upon　her　brother’s　neck；　and　taken　it　off　him；　but　seeing　the　graciousness　the　Emperor　had　shown　to　the　prisoners；　they　made　haste　to　restore　the　holy　image。
Prince　Andrey　did　not　see　who　put　it　on　him　again；　nor　how