Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXVII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron,holding a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of hissmall bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his headand looked about him, but above the level of the wounded men. Heevidently wanted a little respite. After turning his head from rightto left for some time, he sighed and looked down.

　　"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed PrinceAndrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent.

　　Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting.

　　"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to havea chance!" remarked one.

　　Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had onlyjust been cleared and which a dresser was washing down. PrinceAndrew could not make out distinctly what was in that tent. Thepitiful groans from all sides and the torturing pain in his thigh,stomach, and back distracted him. All he saw about him merged into ageneral impression of naked, bleeding human bodies that seemed to fillthe whole of the low tent, as a few weeks previously, on that hotAugust day, such bodies had filled the dirty pond beside theSmolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the same chair a canon, thesight of which had even then filled him with horror, as by apresentiment.

　　There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied,and on the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while hewas left alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place onthe other two tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably aCossack, judging by the uniform thrown down beside him. Foursoldiers were holding him, and a spectacled doctor was cutting intohis muscular brown back.

　　"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up hisswarthy snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his whiteteeth, he began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing,ringing, and prolonged yells. On the other table, round which manypeople were crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with hishead thrown back. His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his headseemed strangely familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers werepressing on his chest to hold him down. One large, white, plump legtwitched rapidly all the time with a feverish tremor. The man wassobbing and choking convulsively. Two doctors- one of whom was paleand trembling- were silently doing something to this man's other, goryleg. When he had finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with anovercoat, the spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping hishands.

　　He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away.

　　"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to thedressers.

　　His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back toPrince Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up beganhastily to undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. Thedoctor bent down over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then hemade a sign to someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen causedPrince Andrew to lose consciousness. When he came to himself thesplintered portions of his thighbone had been extracted, the tornflesh cut away, and the wound bandaged. Water was being sprinkled onhis face. As soon as Prince Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bentover, kissed him silently on the lips, and hurried away.

　　After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed ablissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. Allthe best and happiest moments of his life- especially his earliestchildhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and whenleaning over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying hishead in the pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life-returned to his memory, not merely as something past but assomething present.

　　The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape ofwhose head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting himup and trying to quiet him.

　　"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moanscould be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs.

　　Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted Andrew wanted to weep.Whether because he was dying without glory, or because he was sorry topart with life, or because of those memories of a childhood that couldnot return, or because he was suffering and others were sufferingand that man near him was groaning so piteously- he felt likeweeping childlike, kindly, and almost happy tears.

　　The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clottedblood and with the boot still on.

　　"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman.

　　The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing PrinceAndrew from seeing his face, moved away.

　　"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew tohimself.

　　In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just beenamputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him intheir arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling,swollen lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully."Yes, it is he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfullyconnected with me," thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly graspingwhat he saw before him. "What is the connection of that man with mychildhood and life?" he asked himself without finding an answer. Andsuddenly a new unexpected memory from that realm of pure and lovingchildhood presented itself to him. He remembered Natasha as he hadseen her for the first time at the ball in 1810, with her slender neckand arms and with a frightened happy face ready for rapture, andlove and tenderness for her, stronger and more vivid than ever,awoke in his soul. He now remembered the connection that existedbetween himself and this man who was dimly gazing at him through tearsthat filled his swollen eyes. He remembered everything, and ecstaticpity and love for that man overflowed his happy heart.

　　Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tenderloving tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own andtheir errors.

　　"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and forthose who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which Godpreached on earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did notunderstand- that is what made me sorry to part with life, that is whatremained for me had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!"