战争与和平(上)-第86节

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at　our　retreating　troops。
In　the　rearguard　Dohturov　and　the　rest；　rallying　their　battalions；　had　been　firing　at　the　French　cavalry　who　were　pursuing　them。　It　was　begining　to　get　dark。　On　the　narrow　dam　of　Augest；　where　the　old　miller　in　his　peaked　cap　had　sat　for　so　many　years　with　his　fishing　tackle；　while　his　grandson；　with　tucked…up　shirt…sleeves；　turned　over　the　silvery；　floundering　fish　in　the　net；　on　that　dam　where　the　Moravians；　in　their　shaggy　caps　and　blue　jackets；　had　for　so　many　years　peacefully　driven　their　horses　and　waggons；　loaded　with　wheat；　to　the　mill　and　driven　back　over　the　same　dam；　dusty　with　flour　that　whitened　their　waggons—on　that　narrow　dam　men；　made　hideous　by　the　terror　of　death；　now　crowded　together；　amid　army　waggons　and　cannons；　under　horses’　feet　and　between　carriage…wheels；　crushing　each　other；　dying；　stepping　over　the　dying；　and　killing　each　other；　only　to　be　killed　in　the　same　way　a　few　steps　further　on。
Every　ten　seconds　a　cannon　ball　flew　lashing　the　air　and　thumped　down；　or　a　grenade　burst　in　the　midst　of　that　dense　crowd；　slaying　men　and　splashing　blood　on　those　who　stood　near。　Dolohov；　wounded　in　the　hand；　with　some　dozen　soldiers　of　his　company　on　foot　（he　was　already　an　officer）　and　his　general　on　horseback；　were　the　sole　representatives　of　a　whole　regiment。　Carried　along　by　the　crowd；　they　were　squeezed　in　the　approach　to　the　dam　and　stood　still；　jammed　in　on　all　sides　because　a　horse　with　a　cannon　had　fallen；　and　the　crowd　were　dragging　it　away。　A　cannon　ball　killed　some　one　behind　them；　another　fell　in　front　of　them　and　spurted　the　blood　upon　Dolohov。　The　crowd　moved　forward　desperately；　was　jammed；　moved　a　few　steps　and　was　stopped　again。　“Only　to　get　over　these　hundred　steps　and　certain　safety：　stay　here　two　minutes　and　death　to　a　certainty；”　each　man　was　thinking。
Dolohov　standing　in　the　centre　of　the　crowd；　forced　his　way　to　the　edge　of　the　dam；　knocking　down　two　soldiers；　and　ran　on　to　the　slippery　ice　that　covered　the　millpond。
“Turn　this　way！”　he　shouted；　bounding　over　the　ice；　which　cracked　under　him。　“Turn　this　way！”　he　kept　shouting　to　the　cannon。　“It　bears！…”　The　ice　bore　him；　but　swayed　and　cracked；　and　it　was　evident　that；　not　to　speak　of　a　cannon　or　a　crowd　of　people；　it　would　give　way　in　a　moment　under　him　alone。　Men　gazed　at　him　and　pressed　to　the　bank；　unable　to　bring　themselves　to　step　on　to　the　ice。　The　general　of　his　regiment　on　horseback　at　the　end　of　the　dam　lifted　his　hand　and　opened　his　mouth　to　speak　to　Dolohov。　Suddenly　one　of　the　cannon　balls　flew　so　low　over　the　heads　of　the　crowd　that　all　ducked。　There　was　a　wet　splash；　as　the　general　fell　from　his　horse　into　a　pool　of　blood。　No　one　glanced　at　the　general；　no　one　thought　of　picking　him　up。
“On　to　the　ice！　Get　on　the　ice！　Get　on！　turn！　don’t　you　hear！　Get　on！”　innumerable　voices　fell　to　shouting　immediately　after　the　ball　had　struck　the　general；　not　knowing　themselves　what　and　why　they　were　shouting。
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　u