Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter IX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhovrode to the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the Frenchcamp, and emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descendedinto the hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacksaccompanying him to await him there and rode on at a quick trotalong the road to the bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth withexcitement, rode by his side.

　　"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol,"whispered he.

　　"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and atthat very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Quivive?"* and the click of a musket.

　　*"Who goes there?"

　　The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol.

　　"Lanciers du 6-me,"* replied Dolokhov, neither hastening norslackening his horse's pace.

　　*"Lancers of the 6th Regiment."

　　The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge.

　　"Mot d'ordre."*

　　*"Password."

　　Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk.

　　"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?"* he asked.

　　*"Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?"

　　"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and notreplying.

　　"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pasle mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and ridingstraight at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici."*

　　*"When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him forthe password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here."

　　And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had steppedaside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk.

　　Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhovstopped him and inquired where the commander and officers were. Theman, a soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close upto Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simplyand in a friendly way that the commander and the officers werehigher up the hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as hecalled the landowner's house.

　　Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talkcould be heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into thecourtyard of the landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismountedand approached a big blazing campfire, around which sat several mentalking noisily. Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edgeof the fire and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up bythe fire, was kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod.

　　"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who wassitting in the shadow at the other side of the fire.

　　"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another,laughing.

　　Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound ofDolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leadingtheir horses.

　　"Bonjour, messieurs!"* said Dolokhov loudly and clearly.

　　*"Good day, gentlemen."

　　There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire,and one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came upto Dolokhov.

　　"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...? But, noticinghis mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov asa stranger, asking what he could do for him.

　　Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtaketheir regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whetherthey knew anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything,and Petya thought the officers were beginning to look at him andDolokhov with hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all weresilent.

　　"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come toolate," said a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh.

　　Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push onfarther that night.

　　He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the potand squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with thelong neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov andagain asked to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had notheard the question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipewhich he took from his pocket began asking the officer in how farthe road before them was safe from Cossacks.

　　"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behindthe fire.

　　Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglerssuch as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dareto attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied.

　　"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as hestood by the campfire listening to the talk.

　　But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped andbegan putting direct questions as to how many men there were in thebattalion, how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking aboutthe Russian prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said:

　　"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It wouldbe better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, sostrange that Petya thought the French would immediately detect theirdisguise, and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire.

　　No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officerwhom they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose andwhispered something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called tothe soldier who was holding their horses.

　　"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctivelydrawing nearer to Dolokhov.

　　The horses were brought.

　　"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov.

　　Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. Theofficers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mountinghis horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard ata footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to seewhether or no the French were running after them, but not daring to.

　　Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across theopen country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped andlistened. "Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound ofRussian voices and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners roundtheir campfires. When they had descended to the bridge Petya andDolokhov rode past the sentinel, who without saying a word pacedmorosely up and down it, then they descended into the hollow where theCossacks awaited them.

　　"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot atdaybreak,'" said Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seizedhold of him.

　　"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, howsplendid! How I love you!"

　　"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go ofhim and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending towardhim and wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned hishorse, and vanished into the darkness.