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It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when
the quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little
town of Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began
hurriedly getting ready and again boiled again boiled some muddy
water in the samovar. But Rostov went off to his squadron without
waiting for tea. Day was breaking, the rain had ceased, and the
clouds were dispersing. It felt damp and cold, especially in clothes
that were still moist. As they left the tavern in the twilight
of the dawn, Rostov and Ilyin both glanced under the wet and glistening
leather hood of the doctor's cart, from under the apron of which
his feet were sticking out, and in the middle of which his wife's
nightcap was visible and her sleepy breathing audible.
"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov
to Ilyin, who was following him.
"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity
of a boy of sixteen.
Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road.
The command was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed
themselves and mounted. Rostov riding in front gave the order
"Forward!" and the hussars, with clanking sabers and
subdued talk, their horses' hoofs splashing in the mud, defiled
in fours and moved along the broad road planted with birch trees
on each side, following the infantry and a battery that had gone
on in front.
Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were
scudding before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter.
That curly grass which always grows by country roadsides became
clearly visible, still wet with the night's rain; the drooping
branches of the birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and flung
down bright drops of water to one side. The soldiers' faces were
more and more clearly visible. Rostov, always closely followed
by Ilyin, rode along the side of the road between two rows of
birch trees.
When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of
riding not a regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses
and a sportsman, he had lately procured himself a large, fine,
mettlesome, Donets horse, dun-colored, with light mane and tail,
and when he rode it no one could outgallop him. To ride this horse
was a pleasure to him, and he thought of the horse, of the morning,
of the doctor's wife, but not once of the impending danger.
Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid;
now he had not the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not
because he had grown used to being under fire (one cannot grow
used to danger), but because he had learned how to manage his
thoughts when in danger. He had grown accustomed when going into
action to think about anything but what would seem most likely
to interest him- the impending danger. During the first period
of his service, hard as he tried and much as he reproached himself
with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, but with time
it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under the birch
trees, occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met his
hand, sometimes touching his horse's side with his foot, or, without
turning round, handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar riding
behind him, with as calm and careless an air as though he were
merely out for a ride. He glanced with pity at the excited face
of Ilyin, who talked much and in great agitation. He knew from
experience the tormenting expectation of terror and death the
cornet was suffering and knew that only time could help him.
As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath
the clouds, the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty
of the summer morning after the storm; drops still continued to
fall, but vertically now, and all was still. The whole sun appeared
on the horizon and disappeared behind a long narrow cloud that
hung above it. A few minutes later it reappeared brighter still
from behind the top of the cloud, tearing its edge. Everything
grew bright and glittered. And with that light, and as if in reply
to it, came the sound of guns ahead of them.
Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance
of that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping
from Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road.
The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery-
which had also quickened their pace- rode down a hill, and passing
through an empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses
began to lather and the men to flush.
"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental
commander was heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!"
came the order from in front.
And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left
flank of our position, halted behind our Uhlans who were in the
front line. To the right stood our infantry in a dense column:
they were the reserve. Higher up the hill, on the very horizon,
our guns were visible through the wonderfully clear air, brightly
illuminated by slanting morning sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow
dale, could be seen the enemy's columns and guns. Our advanced
line, already in action, could be heard briskly exchanging shots
with the enemy in the dale.
At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at
the strains of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the
shots, now together, now several quickly one after another. Again
all was silent and then again it sounded as if someone were walking
on detonators and exploding them.
The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour.
A cannonade began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind
the squadron, halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment,
and rode up the hill to the guns.
After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the Uhlans.
"Form column! Prepare to charge!"
The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow
the cavalry to pass. The Uhlans started, the streamers on their
spears fluttering, and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry
which was seen below to the left.
As soon as the Uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were
ordered up the hill to support the battery. As they took the places
vacated by the Uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and
whistling, but fell spent without taking effect.
The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even
more pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous
sounds of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle
opening out before him from the hill, and with his whole soul
followed the movement of the Uhlans. They swooped down close to
the French dragoons, something confused happened there amid the
smoke, and five minutes later our Uhlans were galloping back,
not to the place they had occupied but more to the left, and among
the orange-colored Uhlans on chestnut horses and behind them,
in a large group, blue French dragoons on gray horses could be
seen.
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