战争与和平(上)-第75节

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　to　us。
The　Cossacks　sold　the　horse　for　two　gold　pieces；　and　Rostov；　being　the　richest　of　the　officers　since　he　had　received　money　from　home；　bought　it。
“Be　good　to　the　little　horse！”　the　Alsatian　said　with　simple…hearted　good…nature　to　Rostov；　when　the　horse　was　handed　to　the　hussar。
Rostov　smiling；　soothed　the　dragoon；　and　gave　him　money。
“Alley！　Alley！”　said　the　Cossack；　touching　the　prisoner’s　arm　to　make　him　go　on。
“The　Emperor！　the　Emperor！”　was　suddenly　heard　among　the　hussars。　Everything　was　bustle　and　hurry；　and　Rostov　saw　behind　them　on　the　road　several　horsemen　riding　up　with　white　plumes　in　their　hats。　In　a　single　moment　all　were　in　their　places　and　eagerly　expectant。
Rostov　had　no　memory　and　no　consciousness　of　how　he　ran　to　his　post　and　got　on　his　horse。　Instantly　his　regret　at　not　taking　part　in　the　battle；　his　humdrum　mood　among　the　men　he　saw　every　day—all　was　gone；　instantly　all　thought　of　self　had　vanished。　He　was　entirely　absorbed　in　the　feeling　of　happiness　at　the　Tsar’s　being　near。　His　nearness　alone　made　up　to　him　by　itself；　he　felt；　for　the　loss　of　the　whole　day。　He　was　happy；　as　a　lover　is　happy　when　the　moment　of　the　longed…for　meeting　has　come。　Not　daring　to　look　round　from　the　front　line；　by　an　ecstatic　instinct　without　looking　round；　he　felt　his　approach。　And　he　felt　it　not　only　from　the　sound　of　the　tramping　hoofs　of　the　approaching　cavalcade；　he　felt　it　because　as　the　Tsar　came　nearer　everything　grew　brighter；　more　joyful　and　significant；　and　more　festive。　Nearer　and　nearer　moved　this　sun；　as　he　seemed　to　Rostov；　shedding　around　him　rays　of　mild　and　majestic　light；　and　now　he　felt　himself　enfolded　in　that　radiance；　he　heard　his　voice—that　voice　caressing；　calm；　majestic；　and　yet　so　simple。　A　deathlike　silence　had　come—as　seemed　to　Rostov　fitting—and　in　that　silence　he　heard　the　sound　of　the　Tsar’s　voice。
“The　Pavlograd　hussars？”　he　was　saying　interrogatively
“The　reserve；　sire；”　replied　a　voice—such　a　human　voice；　after　the　superhuman　voice　that　had　said：　“Les　hussards　de　Pavlograd？”
The　Tsar　was　on　a　level　with　Rostov；　and　he　stood　still　there。　Alexander’s　face　was　even　handsomer　than　it　had　been　at　the　review　three　days　before。　It　beamed　with　such　gaiety　and　youth；　such　innocent　youthfulness；　that　suggested　the　playfulness　of　a　boy　of　fourteen；　and　yet　it　was　still　the　face　of　the　majestic　Emperor。　Glancing　casually　along　the　squadron；　the　Tsar’s　eyes　met　the　eyes　of　Rostov；　and　for　not　more　than　two　seconds　rested　on　them。　Whether　it　was　that　the　Tsar　saw　what　was　passing　in　Rostov’s　soul　（it　seemed　to　Rostov　that　he　saw　everything）；　any　way　he　looked　for　two　seconds　with　his　blue　eyes　into　Rostov’s　face。　（A　soft；　mild　radiance　beamed　from　them。）　Then　all　at　once　he　raised　his　eyebrows；　struck　his　left　foot　sharply　against　his　horse；　and　galloped　on。
The　young　Emperor　could　not　restrain　his　desire　to　be　present　at　the　battle；　and　in　spite　of　the　expostulations　of　his　courtiers；　at　twelve　o’clock；　escaping　from　the　third　column　which　he　had　been　following；　he　galloped　to　the　vanguard。　Before　he　reached　the　hussars；　several　adjutants　met　him　with　news　of　the　successful　issue　of　the　engagement。
The　action；　which　had　simply　consisted　in　the　capture　of　a　squadron　of　the　French；　was　magnified　into　a　brilliant　victory　over　the　enemy；　and　so　the　Tsar　and　the　whole　army　believed；　especially　while　the　smoke　still　hung　over　the　field　of　battle；　that　the　French　had　been　defeated；　and　had　been　forced　to　retreat　against　their　will。　A　few　minutes　after　the　Tsar　had　galloped　on；　the　division　of　the　Pavlograd　hussars　received　orders　to　move　forward。　In　Vishau　itself；　a　little　German　town；　Rostov　saw　the　Tsar　once　more。　In　the　market…place　of　the　town　where　there　had　been　rather　a　heavy　firing　before　the　Tsar’s　arrival；　lay　several　dead　and　wounded　soldiers；　whom　there　had　not　been　time　to　pick　up。　The　Tsar；　surrounded　by　his　suite　of　officers　and　courtiers；　was　mounted　on　a　different　horse　from　the　one　he　had　ridden　at　the　review；　a　chestnut　English　thoroughbred。　Bending　on　one　side　with　a　graceful　gesture；　holding　a　gold　field…glass　to　his　eyes；　he　was　looking　at　a　soldier　lying　on　his　face　with　a　blood…stained　and　uncovered　head。　The　wounded　soldier　was　an　object　so　impure；　so　grim；　and　so　revolting；　that　Rostov　was　shocked　at　his　being　near　the　Emperor。　Rostov　saw　how　the　Tsar’s　stooping　shoulders　shuddered；　as　though　a　cold　shiver　had　passed　over　them；　how　his　left　foot　convulsively　pressed　the　spur　into　the　horse’s　side；　and　how　the　trained　horse　looked　round　indifferently　and　did　not　stir。　An　adjutant　dismounting　lifted　the　soldier　up　under　his　arms；　and　began　laying　him　on　a　stretcher　that　came　up。　The　soldier　groaned。
“Gently；　gently；　can’t　you　do　it　more　gently？”　said　the　Tsar；　apparently　suffering　more　than　the　dying　soldier；　and　he　rode　away。
Rostov　saw　the　tears　in　the　Tsar’s　eyes；　and　heard　him　say　in　French　to　Tchartorizhsky；　as　he　rode　off：　“What　an　awful　thing　war　is；　what　an　awful　thing！”
The　forces　of　the　vanguard　were　posted　before　Vishau　in　sight　of　the　enemy’s　line；　which　had　been　all　day　retreating　before　us　at　the　slightest　exchange　of　shots。　The　Tsar’s　thanks　were　conveyed　to　the　vanguard；　rewards　were　promised；　and　a　double　allowance　of　vodka　was　served　out　to　the　men。　Even　more　gaily　than　on　the　previous　night　the　bivouac　fires　crackled；　and　the　soldiers　sang　their　songs。　Denisov　on　that　night　celebrated　his　promotion　to　major；　and；　towards　the　end　of　the　carousal；　after　a　good　deal　of　drinking；　Rostov　proposed　a　toast　to　the　health　of　the　Emperor；　but　“not　our　Sovereign　the　Emperor；　as　they　say　at　official　dinners；”　said　he；　“but　to　the　health　of　the　Emperor；　the　good；　enchanting；　great　man；　let　us　drink　to　his　health；　and　to　a　decisive　victory　over　the　French！”
“If　we　fought　before；”　said　he；　“and　would　not　yield　an　inch　before　the　French；　as　at　Sch？ngraben；　what　will　it　be　now　when　he　is　at　our　head？　We　will　all　die；　we　will　gladly　die　for　him。　Eh；　gentlemen？　Perhaps　I’m　not　saying　it　right。　I’ve　drunk　a　good　deal；　but　that’s　how　I　feel；　and　you　do　too。　To　the　health　of　Alexander　the　First！　Hurrah！”
“Hurrah！”　rang　out　the　cheery　voices　of　the　officers。　And　the　old　captain　Kirsten　shouted　no　less　heartily　and　sincerely　than　Rostov；　the　boy　of　twenty。
When　the　officers　had　drunk　the　toast　and　smashed　their　glasses；　Kirsten　filled　some　fresh　ones；　and　in　his　shirt…sleeves　and　riding…breeches　went　out　to　the　soldiers’　camp…fires；　glass　in　hand；　and　waving　his　hand　in　the　air　stood　in　a　majestic　pose；　with　his　long　grey　whiskers　and　his　white　chest　visible　through　the　open　shirt　in　the　light　of　the　camp…fire。
“Lads；　to　the　health　of　our　Sovereign　the　Emperor；　to　victory　over　our　enemies；　hurrah！”　he　roared　in　his　stalwart　old　soldier’s　baritone。　The　hussars　thronged　about　him　and　responded　by　a　loud　shout　in　unison。
Late　at　night；　when　they　had　all　separated；　Denisov　clapped　his　short　hand　on　the　shoulder　of　his　favourite　Rostov。　“To　be　sure　he’d　no　one　to　fall　in　love　with　in　the　field；　so　he’s　fallen　in　love　with　the　Tsar；”　he　said。
“Denisov；　don’t　joke　about　that；”　cried　Rostov；　“it’s　such　a　lofty；　such　a　sublime　feeling；　so…”
“I　believe　you；　I　believe　you；　my　dear；　and　I　share　the　feeling　and　approve…”
“No；　you　don’t　understand！”　And　Rostov　got　up　and　went　out　to　wander　about　among　the　camp…fires；　dreaming　of　what　happiness　it　would　be　to　die—not　saving　the　Emperor’s　life—（of　that　he　did　not　even　dare　to　dream）；　but　simply　to　die　before　the　Emperor’s　eyes。　He　really　was　in　love　with　the　Tsar　and　the　glory　of　the　Russian　arms　and　the　hope　of　coming　victory。　And　he　was　not　the　only　man　who　felt　thus　in　those　memorable　days　that　preceded　the　battle　of　Austerlitz：　nine…tenths　of　the　men　in　the　Russian　army　were　at　that　moment　in　love；　though　less　ecstatically；　with　their　Tsar　and　the　glory　of　the　Russian　arms。


Chapter　11
THE　FOLLOWING　DAY　the　Tsar　stayed　in　Vishau。　His　medical　attendant；　Villier；　was　several　times　summoned　to　him。　At　headquarters　and　among　the　troops　that　were　nearer；　the　news　circulated　that　the　Tsar　was　unwell。　He　was　eating　nothing　and　had　slept　badly　that　night；　so　those　about　him　reported。　The　cause　of　this　indisposition　was　the　too　violent　shock　given　to　the　sensitive　soul　of　the　Tsar　by　the　sight　of　the　killed　and　wounded。
At　dawn　on　the　17th；　a　French　officer　was　conducted　from　our　outposts　into　Vishau。　He　came　under　a　flag　of　truce　to　ask　for　an　interview　with　the　Russian　Emperor。　This　officer　was　Savary。　The　Tsar　had　only　just　fallen　asleep；　and　so　Savary　had　to　wait。　At　midday　he　was　admitted　to　the　Emperor；　and　an　hour　later　he　rode　away　accompanied　by　Prince　Dolgorukov　to　the　outposts　of　the　French　army。　Savary’s　mission　was；　so　it　was　rumoured；　to　propose　a　meeting　between　Alexander　and　Napolean。　A　personal　interview　was；　to　the　pride　and　rejoicing　of　the　whole　army；　refused；　and　instead　of　the　Tsar；　Prince　Dolgorukov；　the　general　victorious　in　the　action　at　Vishau；　was　despatched　with　Savary　to　undertake　negotiations　with　Napoleon；　if　these　negotiations—contrary　to　expectation—were　founded　on　a　real　desire　for　peace。　In　the　evening　Dolgorukov　came　back；　went　stra