Book Fourteen: 1812 - Chapter VII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow,joined his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a generalcommanding a large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received hiscommission, and especially since he had joined the active army andtaken part in the battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant stateof blissful excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatichurry not to miss any chance to do something really heroic. He washighly delighted with what he saw and experienced in the army, butat the same time it always seemed to him that the really heroicexploits were being performed just where he did not happen to be.And he was always in a hurry to get where he was not.

　　When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wishto send somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously tobe sent that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him herecalled Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where insteadof riding by the road to the place to which he had been sent, he hadgalloped to the advanced line under the fire of the French and hadthere twice fired his pistol. So now the general explicitly forbadehis taking part in any action whatever of Denisov's. That was whyPetya had blushed and grown confused when Denisov asked him whether hecould stay. Before they had ridden to the outskirts of the forestPetya had considered he must carry out his instructions strictly andreturn at once. But when he saw the French and saw Tikhon andlearned that there would certainly be an attack that night, hedecided, with the rapidity with which young people change their views,that the general, whom he had greatly respected till then, was arubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero, and Tikhona hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave them at amoment of difficulty.

　　It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaulrode up to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could beseen, and Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in theglade and were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forestwhere the French could not see the smoke. In the passage of thesmall watchhouse a Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping somemutton. In the room three officers of Denisov's band were converting adoor into a tabletop. Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them tobe dried, and at once began helping the officers to fix up thedinner table.

　　In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On thetable were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt.

　　Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory muttonwith his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in anecstatic childish state of love for all men, and consequently ofconfidence that others loved him in the same way.

　　"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov."It's all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for areply he answered his own question: "You see I was told to find out-well, I am finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into thechief... I don't want a reward... But I want..."

　　Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his headand flourishing his arms.

　　"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile.

　　"Only, please let me command something, so that I may reallycommand..." Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want aknife?" he said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself apiece of mutton.

　　And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it.

　　"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing."Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have someraisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutlerand he has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used tosomething sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into thepassage to his Cossack and brought back some bags which containedabout five pounds of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!"

　　"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought acapital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's veryhonest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Orperhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out- that happenssometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"-and he showed a bag- "a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap.Please take as many as you want, or all if you like...."

　　Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped andblushed.

　　He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else thatwas foolish. And running over the events of the day he rememberedthe French drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him?Where have they put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt hisfeelings?" he thought. But having caught himself saying too much aboutthe flints, he was now afraid to speak out.

　　"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself andso he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Willit seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" andimmediately, blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to seeif they appeared ironical, he said:

　　"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give himsomething to eat?... Perhaps..."

　　"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently sawnothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is VincentBosse. Have him fetched."

　　"I'll call him," said Petya.

　　"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated.

　　Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped inbetween the officers, came close to Denisov, and said:

　　"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!"

　　And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut.

　　"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door.

　　"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness.

　　Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been capturedthat day.

　　"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack.

　　Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacksinto Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers.In both these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matchedthe impression made by the young lad.

　　"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya!Vesenya!- Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to oneanother in the darkness.

　　"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave himsomething to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!"

　　The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in thedarkness, and the drummer boy came to the door.

　　"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez paspeur, on ne vous fera pas de mal,"* he added shyly and affectionately,touching the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez."*[2]

　　*"Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid,they won't hurt you."

　　*[2] "Come in, come in."

　　"Merci, monsieur,"* said the drummer boy in a trembling almostchildish voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold.

　　*"Thank you, sir."

　　There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, butdid not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Thenin the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it.

　　"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can Ido for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass infirst.

　　When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distancefrom him, considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention tohim. But he fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether itwould seem ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy.