No More Learning

"What are you seeking under the disguise of pleasure? " she
thought. "You won't escape from yourselves;" and then, as her


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LYOF TOLSTOY
·
15009
eye fell on a drunken workman led by a policeman, she added,
"That man's way is quicker. Count Vronsky and I did not
reach this pleasure, though we expected much. "
And for the first time, Anna turned upon her relations with
the count this bright light which was suddenly revealing her life
to her.
"What did he seek in me? A satisfaction for his vanity,
rather than for his love! "
And she remembered Vronsky's words, and the expression of
his face, which reminded her of a submissive dog, when they
first met and loved. Everything seemed a confirmation of this
thought.
"Da! he cared for the triumph of success above everything.
Of course he loved me, but chiefly from vanity. Now that he is
not proud of me any more, it is over. He is ashamed of me.
He has taken from me all that he could take, and now I am
of no use to him. I weigh upon him, and he does not want to
be in dishonorable relationship with me. He said yesterday he
wanted the divorce, so as to burn his ships. Perhaps he loves
me still-but how? The zest is gone," she said, in English, as
she looked at a ruddy-faced man riding by on a hired horse.
"Da! there is nothing about me any longer to his taste. If I
leave him, he will rejoice in the bottom of his heart. "
This was not mere hypothesis: she saw things now clearly, as
by a sort of clairvoyance.
"My love has been growing more and more selfish and pas-
sionate; his has been growing fainter and fainter. That is why
we cannot go on together. He is all in all to me. I struggle
to draw him closer and closer to me, and he wants to fly from
me. Up to the time of our union, we flew to meet each other;
but now we move apart. He accuses me of being absurdly jeal-
- and I am; and yet I am not, either. I am not jealous, but
my love is no longer satisfied. But-" she opened her mouth
to speak, and in the excitement caused by the stress of her
thoughts, she changed her place in the carriage.
ous
―――――
"If I could, I would try to be a simple friend to him, and
not a passionate mistress, whom his coldness frenzies; but I can-
not transform myself. I am not mistaken. Don't I know that
he would not deceive me,- that he is no longer in love with
Kitty, that he has no intention of marrying the Princess Soro-
kina? I know it well, but it is none the easier for me. But
XXV-939
-


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what is that to me? If he is tired of my love,- if, when he
does not feel for me just what I feel for him, I would a thou-
sand times rather have him hate me,- this is- hell! And this
is the case. He has long ceased to love me. When love ceases,
disgust begins. -I don't know these streets at all. What hosts
of houses! and in them, people, people,-no end of them! and
they all hate each other!
"Nu! what could happen to me. now that would give me
happiness again? Suppose that Alekséi Aleksandrovitch should
consent to the divorce, and would give me back Serozha, and
that I should marry Vronsky? " And as she thought of Alekséi
Aleksandrovitch, Anna could see him before her, with his dull,
lifeless, faded eyes, his white, blue-veined hands, and his cracking
joints; and the idea of their relation to one another, which had
hitherto been tinged with tenderness, made her shudder.
"Nu! Suppose I were married, would not Kitty still look
at me as she looked at me to-day? Would not Serozha ask and
wonder why I had two husbands? But between me and Vronsky
what new feeling could I imagine? Is it possible that our rela-
tions might be, if not pleasanter, at least no worse than they
are now? No, and no! " she replied, without the least hesitation.
"Impossible! We are growing apart; and I am disagreeable to
him, and he displeases me, and I cannot change him: every
means has been tried.
son.
"Da! there's a beggar with a child. She thinks she inspires
pity. Were we not thrown into the world to hate each other,
and to torment ourselves and everybody else? Here come the
schoolboys out to play! - Serozha ? " It reminded her of her
"I used to think that I loved him, and I was touched
by his gentleness. I also lived without him, gave him up for
my love, and was not sorry for the change, since I was contented
with him whom I loved. " And she remembered with disgust
what she called that love. And the clearness in which she now
saw her own life, as well as the lives of others, delighted her.
"Thus am I, and Piotr, and the coachman Feodor, and that
merchant, and all people from here to the Volga, wherever
these remarks are applicable- and everywhere and always," she
thought, as the carriage stopped in front of the low-roofed sta-
tion of the Nizhni Novgorod Railroad, and the porter came out
to meet her.
"Shall I book you for Obiralovki? " asked Piotr.


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She had entirely forgotten why she had come, and only by a
great effort could she understand what he meant.
"Yes," she said, handing him her purse; and taking her little
red bag, she got out of the carriage.
As she entered with the throng, she reviewed all the details
of her situation and the plans between which she was halting.
And again hope and despair alternately filled her tortured, cruelly
palpitating heart. As she sat on the stelliform divan, she looked
with aversion on the people going and coming,-they were all
her enemies, and thought now of how, when she reached the
station, she would write to him, and what she would write, and
then how at this very moment he- not thinking of her suffer-
ing was complaining to his mother of his position, and how
she would go to his room, and what she would say to him. The
thought that she might yet live happily crossed her brain; and
how hard it was to love and hate him at the same time! And
above all, how her heart was beating, as if to burst its bounds!
A bell sounded, and some impudent young men of a flashy
and vulgar appearance passed before her. Then Piotr, in his
livery and top-boots, with his dull, good-natured face, crossed the
waiting-room, and came up to escort her to the cars.
The noisy
men about the door stopped talking while she passed out upon
the platform; then one of them made some remark to his neigh-
bor, which was apparently an insult. Anna mounted the high
steps, and sat down alone in the compartment on the dirty sofa
which had once been white, and laid her bag beside her on
the springy seat. Piotr raised his gold-laced hat, with an inane
smile, for a farewell, and departed. The saucy conductor shut
the door. A woman, deformed, and ridiculously dressed up, fol-
lowed by a little girl laughing affectedly, passed below the car
window. Anna looked at her with disgust. The little girl was
speaking loud in a mixture of Russian and French.
"That child is grotesque and already self-conscious," thought
Anna; and she seated herself at the opposite window of the
empty apartment, to avoid seeing the people.
A dirty, hunchbacked muzhik passed close to the window, and
examined the car wheels; he wore a cap, from beneath which
could be seen tufts of disheveled hair. "There is something
familiar about that humpbacked muzhik," thought Anna; and
suddenly she remembered her nightmare, and drew back fright-
ened towards the car door, which the conductor was just opening
to admit a lady and gentleman.
―
-


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"Do you want to get out? "
Anna did not answer; and under her veil no one could see
the terror which paralyzed her. She sat down again. The
couple took seats opposite her, and cast stealthy but curious.
glances at her dress. The husband and wife were obnoxious
to her. The husband asked her if she objected to smoking,-
evidently not for the sake of smoking, but as an excuse for
entering into conversation with her. Having obtained her per-
mission, he remarked to his wife in French that he felt even
more inclined to talk than to smoke. They exchanged stupid
remarks, with the hope of attracting Anna's attention and draw-
ing her into the conversation. Anna clearly saw how they bored
each other, how they hated each other. It was impossible not to
hate such painful monstrosities. The second gong sounded, and
was followed by the rumble of baggage,-noise, shouts, laughter.
Anna saw so clearly that there was nothing to rejoice at, that
this laughter roused her indignation, and she longed to stop her
At last the third signal was given, the train started, the
locomotive whistled, and the gentleman crossed himself. "It
would be interesting to ask him what he meant by that," thought
Anna, looking at him angrily. Then she looked by the woman's
head out of the car window at the people standing and walking
on the platform. The car in which Anna sat moved past the
stone walls of the station, the switches, the other cars. The mo-
tion became more rapid; the rays of the setting sun slanted into
the car window, and a light breeze played through the slats of
the blinds.
ears.
Forgetting her neighbors, Anna breathed in the fresh air, and
took up again the course of her thoughts.
"Da! What was I thinking about? I cannot imagine any
situation in which my life could be anything but one long misery.
We are all dedicated to unhappiness: we all know it, and only
seek for ways to deceive ourselves. But when you see the truth,
what is to be done? "
"Reason was given to man that he might avoid what he dis-
likes," remarked the woman in French, apparently delighted with
her sentence.
The words fitted in with Anna's thought.
"To avoid what he dislikes," she repeated; and a glance
at the handsome-faced man, and his thin better half, showed her
that the woman looked upon herself as a misunderstood creature,
and that her stout husband did not contradict this opinion, but


## p. 15013 (#597) ##########################################

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15013
took advantage of it to deceive her. Anna, as it were, read their
history, and looked into the most secret depths of their hearts;
but it was not interesting, and she went on with her reflections.
"Yes, it is very unpleasant to me, and reason was given
to avoid it; therefore it must be done. Why not extinguish the
light when it shines on things disgusting to see? But how?
Why does the conductor keep hurrying through the car? Why
does he shout? Why are there people in this car? Why do
they speak? What are they laughing at? It is all false, all a
lie, all deception, all vanity and vexation.
>>>>
When the train reached the station, Anna followed the other
passengers, and tried to avoid too rude a contact with the bus-
tling crowd. She hesitated on the platform, trying to recollect
why she had come, and to ask herself what she meant to do.
All that seemed to her possible before to do, now seemed to
her difficult to execute,- especially amid this disagreeable crowd.
Now the porters came to her, and offered her their services;
now some young men, clattering up and down the platform, and
talking loud, observed her curiously: and she knew not where to
take refuge. Finally it occurred to her to stop an official, and
ask him if a coachman had not been there with a letter for
Count Vronsky.
"The Count Vronsky? Just now some one was here.
inquiring for the Princess Sorokina and her daughter.
kind of a looking man is this coachman? "
Just then Anna espied the coachman Mikhaïl, rosy and gay in
his elegant blue livery and watch-chain, coming towards her, and
carrying a note, immensely proud that he had fulfilled his com-
mission.
He was
What
Anna broke the seal, and her heart stood still as she read the
carelessly written lines:-
"I am very sorry that your note did not find me in Moscow.
I shall return at ten o'clock. "
――――
"Yes, that is what I expected," she said to herself with a
sardonic smile.
"Very good: you can go home," she said to Mikhail. She
spoke the words slowly and gently, because her heart beat so
that she could scarcely breathe or speak.
"No, I will not let you make me suffer so," thought she, ad-
dressing with a threat, not Vronsky so much as the thought that
was torturing her; and she moved along the platform. Two
chambermaids waiting there turned to look at her, and made


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15014
audible remarks about her toilet. "Just in style," they said,
referring to her lace. The young men would not leave her in
peace. They stared at her, and passed her again and again,—
making their jokes so that she should hear. The station-master
came to her, and asked if she was going to take the train. A
lad selling kvas did not take his eyes from her.
"Bozhe moï! where shall I fly? " she said to herself.
When she reached the end of the platform she stopped. Some
women and children were there, talking with a man in spec-
tacles, who had probably come to the station to meet them.
They too stopped, and turned to see Anna pass by. She hast-
ened her steps.
A truck full of trunks rumbled by, making the
floor shake so that she felt as if she were on a moving train.
Suddenly she remembered the man who was run over on
the day when she met Vronsky for the first time, and she knew
then what was in store for her. With light and swift steps she
descended the stairway which led from the pump at the end of
the platform down to the rails, and stood very near the train,
which was slowly passing by. She looked under the cars,—at
the chains and the brake, and the high iron wheels, and she
tried to estimate with her eye the distance between the fore and
back wheels, and the moment when the middle would be in front
of her.
-
"There," she said, looking at the shadow of the car thrown
upon the black coal-dust which covered the sleepers, "there, in
the centre, he will be punished; and I shall be delivered from it
all- and from myself. "
Her little red traveling-bag caused her to lose the moment
when she could throw herself under the wheels of the first car:
she could not detach it from her arm. She awaited the second.
A feeling like that she had experienced once, just before taking
a dive in the river, came over her, and she made the sign of the
cross. This familiar gesture called back to her soul, memories
of youth and childhood. Life, with its elusive joys, glowed for
an instant before her, but she did not take her eyes from the
car; and when the middle, between the two wheels, appeared, she
threw away her red bag, drawing her head between her shoul-
ders, and with outstretched hands threw herself on her knees
under the car. She had time to feel afraid. "Where am I?
What am I doing? Why? " thought she, trying to draw back;
but a great, inflexible mass struck her head, and threw her upon
her back. "Lord, forgive me all! " she murmured, feeling the


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struggle to be in vain. A little muzhik was working on the
railroad, mumbling in his beard. And the candle by which she
read, as in a book, the fulfillment of her life's work,- of its
deceptions, its grief, and its torment,- flared up with greater
brightness than she had ever known, revealing to her all that
before was in darkness; then flickered, grew faint, and went out
forever.
AT BORODINO
Copyright 1886, by William S. Gottsberger. Reprinted
by permission of George G. Peck, publisher
From 'War and Peace.
W
HEN Pierre returned to Gorky after his visit to Prince An-
dré, he desired his servant to have his horses ready sad-
dled, and to wake him at daybreak; then he went soundly
to sleep in the corner that Boris had so obligingly offered him.
When he woke, the cottage was empty, the little panes in the
windows were trembling, and his man was shaking him to rouse
him.
"Excellency, Excellency! " he shouted.
"Why — what is the matter? Is it begun? "
"Listen to the cannonade," said the man, who was
an old
soldier. "They have all been gone a long time; even his High-
ness. "
Pierre hastily dressed and ran out. It was a brilliant, de-
licious morning: dewdrops sparkled everywhere; the sun sent
level rays through the curtain of cloud, and a shaft of light fell
across the roof and through the hanging mist, on the dusty road
just moist with the night-dews-on the walls of the houses, the
rough wood palings, and the horses standing saddled at the door.
The roar of cannon grew louder and louder.
"Make haste, count, if you want to be in time! " shouted an
aide-de-camp as he galloped past.
Pierre started on foot,- his man leading the horses,— and
made his way by the road as far as the knoll from whence he
had surveyed the field the day before. This mamelon was
crowded with military; the staff officers could be heard talking
French; and conspicuous among them all was Koutouzow's gray
head under a white cap bound with red,- his fat neck sunk in
his broad shoulders. He was studying the distance through a
field-glass.


## p. 15016 (#600) ##########################################

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LYOF TOLSTOY
As he climbed the slope, Pierre was struck by the scene that
spread before him. It was the same landscape that he had seen
yesterday, but swarming now with an imposing mass of troops,
wrapped in wreaths of smoke, and lighted up by the low sun,
which was rising on the left and filling the pure upper air with
quivering rose and gold, while on the earth lay long masses of
black shadow. The clumps of trees that bordered the horizon
might have been hewn out of some sparkling yellow-green gem;
and beyond them again, far away, the Smolensk road could be
made out, covered with troops. Close to the knoll the golden
fields and dewy slopes were bathed in shimmering light; and
everywhere to the right and left were soldiers, and still soldiers.
It was animated, grandiose, and unexpected; but what especially
interested Pierre was the actual field of battle,- Borodino and
the valley of the Kolotcha, through which the river ran.
Above the stream, over Borodino, just where the Voïna makes
its way through vast marshes to join the Kolotcha, rose one of
those mists which, melting and dissolving before the sun's rays,
gives an enchanted aspect and color to the landscape it trans-
forms rather than hides.
The morning light glowed in this mist, and in the smoke
which mixed with it here and there; and sparkled on the water,
the dew, the bayonets,- even on Borodino. Through that trans-
parent veil could be seen the white church, the hovel roofs of
the village; and on every side serried masses of soldiers, green
caissons, and guns. From the valley, from the heights and the
slopes, from the woods, from the fields, came cannon shots, now
singly, now in volleys; followed by puffs of smoke which wreathed,
mingled, and faded away. And strange as it may appear, this
smoke and cannonade were the most attractive features of the
spectacle. Pierre was chafing to be there among the smoke and
the sparkling bayonets, in the midst of the movement, close to
the guns.
He turned to compare his own feelings with those which
Koutouzow and his staff might be expected to feel at such a
moment, and found on every face that suppressed excitement
which he had noticed before; but which he had not understood
until after his conversation with Prince André.
"Go, my friend, go," said Koutouzow to a general standing
near him, "and God go with you. " And the general who had
taken the order went past Pierre down the hill.


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15017
"To the bridge! " he answered in reply to a question from
another officer.
"And I too," thought Pierre, following him. The general
mounted his horse, which a Cossack was holding; and Pierre,
going up to his servant, asked which of his two steeds was the
quietest to ride. Then clutching the beast's mane, leaning over
his neck and clinging on by his heels, off he started. He felt
that his spectacles were gone; however, as he would not, and
indeed could not, let go of the bridle or the mane, away he went
after the general, past the rest of the officers, who gazed at his
headlong career.
The general led the way down the hill, and turned off sharp
to the left; Pierre lost sight of him, and found himself riding
through the ranks of an infantry regiment; he tried in vain to
get out of the midst of the men, who surrounded him on all
sides, and looked with angry surprise at this fat man in a white
hat, who was knocking them about so heedlessly and at such a
critical moment.
"Why the devil do you ride through a battalion? " asked
one; and another gave the horse a prod with the butt-end of his
musket. Pierre, clutching the saddle-bow, and holding in his
frightened steed as best he might, was carried on at a furious.
speed, and presently found himself in an open space. In front
of him was a bridge guarded by infantry firing briskly; without
knowing it he had come down to the bridge between Gorky and
Borodino, which the French, after taking the village, had come
down to attack. On both sides of the river, and in the hay-
fields he had seen from afar, soldiers were struggling frantically;
still Pierre could not believe that he was witnessing the first act
of a battle. He did not hear the bullets that were whistling
about his ears, nor the balls that flew over his head; and it did
not occur to him that the men on the other side of the river
were the enemy, or that those who lay on the ground were
wounded or killed.
"What on earth is he doing in front of the line? " shouted a
voice. "Left! left! turn to the left! "
Pierre turned to the right, and ran up against an aide-de-
camp of General Raïevsky's; the officer looked furious, and was
about to abuse him roundly, when he recognized him.
"What brings you here? " said he, and he rode away.
Pierre, with a vague suspicion that he was not wanted there,
and fearing he might be in the way, galloped after him.


## p. 15018 (#602) ##########################################

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LYOF TOLSTOY
"Is it here? May I follow you? " he asked.
"In a minute-wait a minute," said his friend, tearing down
into the meadow to meet a burly colonel to whom he was carry.
ing orders. Then he came back to Pierre.
"Tell me what on earth you have come here for? -to look
on, I suppose ? "
"Just so," said Pierre; while the officer wheeled his horse
round and was starting off again.
"Here it is not such warm work yet, thank God! but there,
where Bagration is to the left, they are getting it hot! "
"Really! " said Pierre. "Where ? »
"Come up the hill with me: you will see very well from
thence, and it is still bearable. Are you coming? "
"After you," said Pierre, looking round for his servant: then
for the first time his eye fell on the wounded men who were
dragging themselves to the rear, or being carried on litters; one
poor little soldier, with his hat lying by his side, was stretched
motionless on the field where the mown hay exhaled its stupefy-
ing scent.
"Why have they left that poor fellow? " Pierre was on the
point of saying; but the aide-de-camp's look of pain as he turned
away stopped the question on his lips. As he could nowhere
see his servant, he rode on across the flat as far as Raïevsky's
battery; but his horse could not keep up with the officer's, and
shook him desperately.
"You are not used to riding, I see," said the aide-de-camp.
"Oh, it is nothing," said Pierre: "his pace is bad. "
"The poor beast has had his off leg wounded just above the
knee; a bullet must have caught him there. Well, I congratulate
you, count, it is your baptism of fire. "
___
After passing the sixth corps they got, through dense smoke,
to the rear of the artillery, which held an advanced position, and
kept up an incessant and deafening fire. At last they found
themselves in a little copse where the mild autumn air was clear
of smoke. They dismounted and climbed the little hill.
"Is the general here? " asked the aide-de-camp.
"Just gone," was the answer. The officer turned to Pierre:
he did not know what to do with him.
"Do not trouble yourself about me," said Bésoukhow. " I
will go on to the top. "
"Yes, do- and stay there: you will see everything, and it is
comparatively safe. I will come back for you. "


## p. 15019 (#603) ##########################################

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15019
So they parted; and it was not till the end of the day that
Pierre heard that his companion had one arm shot off. He went
up to the battery that held the famous knoll which came to be
known to the Russians as the "mamelon battery" or "Raïevsky's
redoubt"; and to the French-who regarded it as the key of the
position as the "great redoubt," or the "fatal redoubt," or the
centre redoubt. " At its foot fell tens of thousands.
―――――
The works were thrown up on a mamelon surrounded with
trenches on three sides. Ten heavy guns poured forth death
through the embrasures of a breastwork, while other pieces, con-
tinuing the line, never paused in their fire. The infantry stood
somewhat further back.
Pierre had no suspicion of the paramount value of this point,
but supposed it to be, on the contrary, of quite secondary import-
ance. He sat down on the edge of the earthwork that screened
the battery, and looked about with a smile of innocent satisfaction;
now and then he got up to see what was going on, trying to
keep out of the way of the men who were reloading the guns and
pushing them forward each time, and of those who went to and
fro carrying the heavy cartridges. Quite unlike the infantry out-
side, whose duty it was to protect the redoubt, the gunners stand-
ing on this speck of earth that was inclosed by its semicircle of
trenches, and apart from the rest of the battle, seemed bound
together in a kind of fraternal responsibility; and the appearance
in their midst of a civilian like Pierre was by no means pleas-
ing to them. They looked at him askance, and seemed almost
alarmed at his presence: a tall artillery officer came close up to
him and looked at him inquisitively; and a quite young lieuten-
ant, rosy and baby-faced, who was in charge of two guns, turned
round and said very severely:-
"You must have the goodness to go away, sir: you cannot
remain here. "
―――――
―
The gunners continued to shake their heads disapprovingly;
but when they saw that the man in a white hat did not get in
the way, that he was content to sit still, or walk up and down
in the face of the enemy's fire, as coolly as if it were a boule-
vard; that he stood aside politely to make room for them, with a
shy smile, their ill-humor gave place to sympathetic cordiality,
such as soldiers are apt to feel for the dogs, cocks, or other ani-
mals that march with the regiment. They adopted him, as it
were, and laughing at him among themselves, gave him the name
of "Our Gentleman. "


## p. 15020 (#604) ##########################################

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LYOF TOLSTOY
A ball fell within a couple of yards of Pierre, who only shook
off the dust with which he was covered, and smiled as he looked
round.
"And you are really not afraid, master? " said a stalwart, red-
faced artilleryman, showing his white teeth in a grin.
"Well, are you afraid? "
"Ah, but you know they will have no respect for you. If one
of them knocks you down it will kick your inside out! How can
you help being afraid? " he added with a laugh.
Two or three more had stopped to look at Pierre; they had
jolly, friendly faces, and seemed quite astonished to hear him talk
like themselves.
"It is our business, master. But as for you, it is not at all
the same thing, and it is wonderful. "
"Now then-serve the guns! " cried the young lieutenant,
who was evidently on duty of this kind for the first or second
time in his life, he was so extravagantly anxious to be blame-
less in his conduct to his chief and to his men.
The continual thunder of guns and musketry grew louder and
louder, especially on the left, round Bagration's advanced work;
but Pierre's attention was taken up with what was going on
close to him, and the smoke prevented his seeing the progress of
the action. His first impulse of gratified excitement had given
way to a very different feeling, roused in the first instance by the
sight of the little private lying in the hay-field. It was scarcely
ten o'clock yet; twenty men had been carried away from the
battery, and two guns were silenced. The enemy's missiles fell
thicker and faster, and spent balls dropped about them with a
buzz and a thud. The artillerymen did not seem to heed them:
they were full of jests and high spirits.
"Look out, my beauty! Not this way,- try the infantry! »
cried one man to a shell that spun across above their heads.
"Yes, go to the infantry," echoed a second; and he laughed.
as he saw the bomb explode among the foot soldiers.
• "Hallo! Is that an acquaintance of yours? " cried a third, to
a peasant who bowed low as a ball came past.
A knot of men had gathered close to the breastwork to look
at something in the distance.
"Do you see? the advanced posts are retiring,- they are giv-
ing way! " said one.
"If they
"Mind your own business," cried an old sergeant.
are retiring, it is because there is something for them to do


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LYOF TOLSTOY
elsewhere; "
―
15021
he took one of them by the shoulders and shoved
him forward with his knee. They all laughed.
"Forward No. 5! " was shouted from the other end.
"A long pull and a pull all together! " answered the men who
were serving the gun.
"Hallo! That one nearly had our Gentleman's hat off! " said
a wag, addressing Pierre. "Ah, you brute! " he added, as the
ball hit the wheel of a gun-carriage and took off a man's leg.
«< Here, you foxes! " cried another to the militiamen, who had
been charged with the duty of removing the wounded, and who
now crept forward, bent almost double. "This is not quite the
sauce you fancy! "
"Look at those crows! " added a third to a party of the mili-
tia, who had stopped short in their horror at the sight of the man
who had lost his leg.
Pierre observed that every ball that hit, and every man that
fell, added to the general excitement. The soldiers' faces grew
more fierce and more eager, as lightnings play round a thunder-
cloud; and as though in defiance of that other storm that was
raging around them. Pierre felt that this glow was infectious.
At ten o'clock the infantry sharpshooters, placed among the
scrub in front of the battery and along the Kamenka brook,
began to give way: he could see them running and carrying the
wounded on their gunstocks. A general came up the mamelon,
exchanged a few words with the colonel in command, shot a
wrathful scowl at Pierre, and went away again, after ordering
the infantrymen to fire lying down, so as to expose a smaller
front. There was a sharp rattle of drums in the regiment below,
and the line rushed forward. Pierre's attention was caught by
the pale face of a young officer who was marching with them
backwards, holding his sword point downwards, and looking be-
hind him uneasily; in a minute they were lost to sight in the
smoke, and Pierre only heard a confusion of cries, and the steady
rattle of well-sustained firing. Then in a few minutes, the
wounded were brought out of the mêlée on stretchers.
In the redoubt, projectiles were falling like hail, and several
men were laid low; the soldiers were working with increased
energy: no one heeded Pierre. Once or twice he was told to
get out of the way; and the old commanding officer walked up
and down from one gun to another, with his brows knit. The
boy lieutenant, with flaming cheeks, was giving his orders more


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LYOF TOLSTOY
15022
incisively than ever; the gunners brought up the cartridges, loaded
and fired with passionate celerity and zeal. They no longer
walked; they sprang about as if they were moved by springs.
The thunder-cloud was close overhead. Every face seemed to
flash fire, and Pierre, now standing by the old colonel, felt as if
the explosion was at hand; then the young lieutenant came up
to the chief and saluted with his hand to the peak of his cap.
"I have the honor to inform you that there are only eight
rounds left. Must we go on? "
"Grape-shot! " cried the colonel, instead of answering him;
and at that moment the little lieutenant gave a cry, and dropped
like a bird shot on the wing.
Everything whirled and swam before Pierre's eyes. A rain
of ball was clattering on the breastwork, the men, and the guns.
Pierre, who had not thought much about it hitherto, now heard
nothing else. On the right some soldiers were running and
shouting "Hurrah! "- but backwards surely, not forwards. A ball
hit the earthwork close to where he was standing, and made
the dust fly; at the same instant a black object seemed to leap
up and bury itself in something soft. The militiamen made the
best of their way down the slope again.
"Grape-shot! " repeated the old commander. A sergeant in
much agitation ran to him, and told him in terrified undertones.
that the ammunition was all spent. He might have been a
house-steward telling his master that the wine had run short.
"Rascals! what are they about? " cried the officer; he looked
round at Pierre, his heated face streaming with perspiration, and
his eyes flashing with a fever of excitement. "Run down to
the reserve and fetch up a caisson," he added
of the soldiers.
furiously to one
"I will go," said Pierre.
The officer did not answer, but stepped aside.
fire! "
"Wait-don't
The man who had been ordered to fetch up the caisson ran
against Pierre.
"It is not your place, master! " he said; and he set off as
fast as he could go, down the slope. Pierre ran after him, tak-
ing care to avoid the spot where the boy lieutenant was lying.
Two, three balls flew over his head, and fell close to him.
"Where am I going? " he suddenly asked himself when he
was within a few feet of the ammunition stores. He stopped,


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15023
not knowing where to go. At the same instant a tremendous
shock flung him face downwards on the ground; a sheet of flame
blinded him; and a terrible shriek, ending in an explosion and
rattle all round him, completely stunned him. When he pres-
ently recovered his senses, he was lying on the ground with his
arms spread out. The caisson he had before seen had vanished;
in its place the scorched grass was strewn with green boards,
half burnt up, and with rags of clothing; one horse, shaking off
the remains of his shafts, started away at a gallop; his mate,
mortally injured, lay whinnying piteously.
Pierre, half crazy with terror, started to his feet, and ran
back to the battery, as being the only place where he could find
shelter from all these catastrophes. As he went he was surprised
to hear no more firing, and to find the work occupied by a num-
ber of new-comers whom he could not recognize. The colonel
was leaning over the breast work as though he were looking down
at something; and a soldier, struggling in the hands of some
others, was shouting for help. He had not had time to under-
stand that the commanding officer was dead, and the soldier a
prisoner, when another was killed under his eyes by a bayonet
thrust in the back. Indeed, he had scarcely set foot in the
redoubt when a man in a dark-blue uniform, with a lean brown
face, threw himself on him, sword in hand. Pierre instinctively
dodged, and seized his assailant by the neck and shoulder. It
was a French officer; but he dropped his sword and took Pierre
by the collar. They stood for a few seconds face to face, each
looking more astonished than the other at what he had just
done.
"Am I his prisoner or is he mine? " was the question in
both their minds.