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Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received
a letter from his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's
illness and the breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew
(which they explained by Natasha's having rejected him) and again
asked Nicholas to retire from the army and return home. On receiving
this letter, Nicholas did not even make any attempt to get leave
of absence or to retire from the army, but wrote to his parents
that he was sorry Natasha was ill and her engagement broken off,
and that he would do all he could to meet their wishes. To Sonya
he wrote separately.
"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing
but honor could keep me from returning to the country. But now,
at the commencement of the campaign, I should feel dishonored,
not only in my comrades' eyes but in my own, if I preferred my
own happiness to my love and duty to the Fatherland. But this
shall be our last separation. Believe me, directly the war is
over, if I am still alive and still loved by you, I will throw
up everything and fly to you, to press you forever to my ardent
breast."
It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that
prevented Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying
Sonya. The autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter
with the Christmas holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to
him a vista of tranquil rural joys and peace such as he had never
known before, and which now allured him. "A splendid wife,
children, a good pack of hounds, a dozen leashes of smart borzois,
agriculture, neighbors, service by election..." thought he.
But now the campaign was beginning, and he had to remain with
his regiment. And since it had to be so, Nicholas Rostov, as was
natural to him, felt contented with the life he led in the regiment
and was able to find pleasure in that life.
On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully
welcomed by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought
back from the Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned
him commendation from his commanders. During his absence he had
been promoted captain, and when the regiment was put on war footing
with an increase in numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron.
The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on
double pay, new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above
all everybody was infected with the merrily excited mood that
goes with the commencement of a war, and Rostov, conscious of
his advantageous position in the regiment, devoted himself entirely
to the pleasures and interests of military service, though he
knew that sooner or later he would have to relinquish them.
The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons
of state, political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was
accompanied by a complicated interplay of interests, arguments,
and passions at headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however,
the whole of this retreat during the finest period of summer and
with sufficient supplies was a very simple and agreeable business.
It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness,
and intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves
where they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat,
it was only because they had to leave billets they had grown accustomed
to, or some pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that things
looked bad chanced to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as cheerful
as befits a good soldier and not to think of the general trend
of affairs, but only of the task nearest to hand. First they camped
gaily before Vilna, making acquaintance with the Polish landowners,
preparing for reviews and being reviewed by the Emperor and other
high commanders. Then came an order to retreat to Sventsyani and
destroy any provisions they could not carry away with them. Sventsyani
was remembered by the hussars only as the drunken camp, a name
the whole army gave to their encampment there, and because many
complaints were made against the troops, who, taking advantage
of the order to collect provisions, took also horses, carriages,
and carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered Sventsyani,
because on the first day of their arrival at that small town he
changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken
men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five
barrels of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and
farther to Drissa, and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near
to the frontier of Russia proper.
On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious
action for the first time.
On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was
a heavy storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 18l2
was remarkable for its storms.
The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of
rye, which was already in ear but had been completely trodden
down by cattle and horses. The rain was descending in torrents,
and Rostov, with a young officer named Ilyin, his protege, was
sitting in a hastily constructed shelter. An officer of their
regiment, with long mustaches extending onto his cheeks, who after
riding to the staff had been overtaken by the rain, entered Rostov's
shelter.
"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of
Raevski's exploit?"
And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle,
which he had heard at the staff.
Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the
water trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an
occasional glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This
officer, a lad of sixteen who had recently joined the regiment,
was now in the same relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been
to Denisov seven years before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in
everything and adored him as a girl might have done.
Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke grandiloquently
of the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and
of how a deed worthy of antiquity had been performed by General
Raevski. He recounted how Raevski had led his two sons onto the
dam under terrific fire and had charged with them beside him.
Rostov heard the story and not only said nothing to encourage
Zdrzhinski's enthusiasm but, on the contrary, looked like a man
ashamed of what he was hearing, though with no intention of contradicting
it. Since the campaigns of Austerlitz and of 1807 Rostov knew
by experience that men always lie when describing military exploits,
as he himself had done when recounting them; besides that, he
had experience enough to know that nothing happens in war at all
as we can imagine or relate it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's
tale, nor did he like Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches
extending over his cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer,
as was his habit, and crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov
looked at him in silence. "In the first place, there must
have been such a confusion and crowding on the dam that was being
attacked that if Raevski did lead his sons there, it could have
had no effect except perhaps on some dozen men nearest to him,"
thought he, "the rest could not have seen how or with whom
Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who did see it would
not have been much stimulated by it, for what had they to do with
Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own skins were in
danger? And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did not depend
on whether they took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are told was
the case at Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a sacrifice?
And why expose his own children in the battle? I would not have
taken my brother Petya there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger
to me but a nice lad, but would have tried to put them somewhere
under cover," Nicholas continued to think, as he listened
to Zdrzhinski. But he did not express his thoughts, for in such
matters, too, he had gained experience. He knew that this tale
redounded to the glory of our arms and so one had to pretend not
to doubt it. And he acted accordingly.
"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing
that Rostov did not relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My
stockings and shirt... and the water is running on my seat! I'll
go and look for shelter. The rain seems less heavy."
Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away.
Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came
running back to the shanty.
"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two
hundred yards away there's a tavern where ours have already gathered.
We can at least get dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there."
Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a
pretty young German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor,
whether from lack of means or because he did not like to part
from his young wife in the early days of their marriage, took
her about with him wherever the hussar regiment went and his jealousy
had become a standing joke among the hussar officers.
Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka
to follow with the things, and- now slipping in the mud, now splashing
right through it- set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and
the darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning.
"Rostov, where are you?"
"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another.
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