Book Five: 1806-07 - Chapter XXI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, abattalion of the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and abattalion of the French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left.

　　As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, whichpresented arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to theopposite flank, and at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. Itcould be no one else. He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blueuniform open over a white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over hisshoulder. He was riding a very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horsewith a crimson gold-embroidered saddlecloth. On approachingAlexander he raised his hat, and as he did so, Rostov, with hiscavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that Napoleon did not sitwell or firmly in the saddle. The battalions shouted "Hurrah!" and"Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to Alexander, and bothEmperors dismounted and took each other's hands. Napoleon's facewore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was sayingsomething affable to him.

　　In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, whichwere pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement ofAlexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexandertreated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at easewith the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everydaymatter to him.

　　Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites,approached the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and camestraight up to the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedlyfound itself so close to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in thefront row, was afraid he might be recognized.

　　"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to thebravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulatingevery letter.

　　This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight intoAlexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said tohim and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly.

　　"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war,"added Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure andassurance exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russianranks drawn up before him, who all presented arms with their eyesfixed on their Emperor.

　　"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" saidAlexander and took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, thecommander of the battalion.

　　Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand,tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind himrushed forward and picked it up.

　　"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander askedKoslovski, in Russian in a low voice.

　　"To whomever Your Majesty commands."

　　The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancingback, remarked:

　　"But we must give him an answer."

　　Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in hisscrutiny.

　　"Can it be me?" thought Rostov.

　　"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, thefirst soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward.

　　"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev whodid not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong lookat his colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens tosoldiers called before the ranks.

　　Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand outbehind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessingat once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passedsomething from one to another, and a page- the same one Rostov hadseen the previous evening at Boris'- ran forward and, bowingrespectfully over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting amoment, laid in it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, withoutlooking, pressed two fingers together and the badge was betweenthem. Then he approached Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistentlygazed at his own monarch), looked round at the Emperor Alexander toimply that what he was now doing was done for the sake of his ally,and the small white hand holding the Order touched one of Lazarev'sbuttons. It was as if Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for hishand to deign to touch that soldier's breast for the soldier to beforever happy, rewarded, and distinguished from everyone else in theworld. Napoleon merely laid the cross on Lazarev's breast and,dropping his hand, turned toward Alexander as though sure that thecross would adhere there. And it really did.

　　Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the crossand fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the littleman with white hands who was doing something to him and, stillstanding motionless presenting arms, looked again straight intoAlexander's eyes, as if asking whether he should stand there, or goaway, or do something else. But receiving no orders, he remained forsome time in that rigid position.

　　The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion,breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at thetables prepared for them.

　　Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officersembraced him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds ofofficers and civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble ofRussian and French voices and laughter filled the air round the tablesin the square. Two officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful andhappy, passed by Rostov.

　　"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of themwas saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?"

　　"I have."

　　"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner."

　　"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pensionfor life."

　　"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning ashaggy French cap.

　　"It's a fine thing! First-rate!"

　　"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another."The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure';yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives itand next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George'sCross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. Hemust respond in kind."

　　Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhenskbanquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the cornerof a house.

　　"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and couldnot refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal andtroubled was Rostov's face.

　　"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov.

　　"You'll call round?"

　　"Yes, I will."

　　Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast froma distance. a distance. In his mind, a painful process was going onwhich he could not bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose inhis soul. Now he remembered Denisov with his changed expression, hissubmission, and the whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off andits dirt and disease. So vividly did he recall that hospital stench ofdead flesh that he looked round to see where the smell came from. Nexthe thought of that self-satisfied Bonaparte, with his small whitehand, who was now an Emperor, liked and respected by Alexander. Thenwhy those severed arms and legs and those dead men?... Then again hethought of Lazarev rewarded and Denisov punished and unpardoned. Hecaught himself harboring such strange thoughts that he was frightened.

　　The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense ofhunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something toeat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning.There he found so many people, among them officers who, likehimself, had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty ingetting a dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. Theconversation naturally turned on the peace. The officers, hiscomrades, like most of the army, were dissatisfied with the peaceconcluded after the battle of Friedland. They said that had we heldout a little longer Napoleon would have been done for, as his troopshad neither provisions nor ammunition. Nicholas ate and drank (chieflythe latter) in silence. He finished a couple of bottles of wine byhimself. The process in his mind went on tormenting him withoutreaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to his thoughts, yetcould not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the officers' sayingthat it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov began shoutingwith uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the surprise of theofficers:

　　"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenlyrushing to his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? Whatright have we to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's orhis actions!"

　　"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer,justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, excepton the supposition that he was drunk.

　　But Rostov did not listen to him.

　　"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more,"he went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished,it means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If theEmperor pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude analliance with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. Ifonce we begin judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacredwill be left! That way we shall be saying there is no God- nothing!"shouted Nicholas, banging the table- very little to the point as itseemed to his listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his ownthoughts.

　　"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That'sall...." said he.

　　"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel.

　　"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Anotherbottle!" he shouted.

　　In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interviewwith the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburgthere was much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting.