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On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff
in his hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and
unconsciously uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan.
Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He
did not know how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he
again felt that he was alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating
pain in his head.
"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till
now, but saw today?" was his first thought. "And I did
not know this suffering either," he thought. "Yes, I
did not know anything, anything at all till now. But where am
I?"
He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and
voices speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was
the same lofty sky with clouds that had risen and were floating
still higher, and between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not
turn his head and did not see those who, judging by the sound
of hoofs and voices, had ridden up and stopped near him.
It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte
riding over the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen
the batteries firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the
killed and wounded left on the field.
"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead
Russian grenadier, who, with his face buried in the ground and
a blackened nape, lay on his stomach with an already stiffened
arm flung wide.
"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted,
Your Majesty," said an adjutant who had come from the batteries
that were firing at Augesd.
"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon,
and having gone on a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew,
who lay on his back with the flagstaff that had been dropped beside
him. (The flag had already been taken by the French as a trophy.)
"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed
at Bolkonski.
Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that
it was Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as
Sire. But he heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing
of a fly. Not only did they not interest him, but he took no notice
of them and at once forgot them. His head was burning, he felt
himself bleeding to death, and he saw above him the remote, lofty,
and everlasting sky. He knew it was Napoleon- his hero- but at
that moment Napoleon seemed to him such a small, insignificant
creature compared with what was passing now between himself and
that lofty infinite sky with the clouds flying over it. At that
moment it meant nothing to him who might be standing over him,
or what was said of him; he was only glad that people were standing
near him and only wished that they would help him and bring him
back to life, which seemed to him so beautiful now that he had
today learned to understand it so differently. He collected all
his strength, to stir and utter a sound. He feebly moved his leg
and uttered a weak, sickly groan which aroused his own pity.
"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this
young man up and carry him to the dressing station."
Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes,
who, hat in hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate
him on the victory.
Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness
from the terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the
jolting while being moved, and the probing of his wound at the
dressing station. He did not regain consciousness till late in
the day, when with other wounded and captured Russian officers
he was carried to the hospital. During this transfer he felt a
little stronger and was able to look about him and even speak.
The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those
of a French convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt
here: the Emperor will pass here immediately; it will please him
to see these gentlemen prisoners."
"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole
Russian army, that he is probably tired of them," said another
officer.
"All the same! They say this one is the commander of
all the Emperor Alexander's Guards," said the first one,
indicating a Russian officer in the white uniform of the Horse
Guards.
Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg
society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer
of the Horse Guards.
Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse.
"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners.
They named the colonel, Prince Repnin.
"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment
of Horse Guards?" asked Napoleon.
"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin.
"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said
Napoleon.
"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest
reward," said Repnin.
"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And
who is that young man beside you?"
Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen.
After looking at him Napoleon smiled.
"He's very young to come to meddle with us."
"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen
in a failing voice.
"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man,
you will go far!"
Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the
Emperor's eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail
to attract his attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing
him on the battlefield and, addressing him, again used the epithet
"young man" that was connected in his memory with Prince
Andrew.
"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do
you feel, mon brave?"
Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to
say a few words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with
his eyes fixed straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant
at that moment seemed to him all the interests that engrossed
Napoleon, so mean did his hero himself with his paltry vanity
and joy in victory appear, compared to the lofty, equitable, and
kindly sky which he had seen and understood, that he could not
answer him.
Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison
with the stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from
loss of blood, suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in
him. Looking into Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the
insignificance of greatness, the unimportance of life which no
one could understand, and the still greater unimportance of death,
the meaning of which no one alive could understand or explain.
The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and
said to one of the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen
attended to and taken to my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine
their wounds. Au revoir, Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his
horse and galloped away.
His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure.
The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and
taken the little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's
neck, but seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they
now hastened to return the holy image.
Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced,
but the little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared
upon his chest outside his uniform.
"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing
at the icon his sister had hung round his neck with such emotion
and reverence, "it would be good if everything were as clear
and simple as it seems to Mary. How good it would be to know where
to seek for help in this life, and what to expect after it beyond
the grave! How happy and calm I should be if I could now say:
'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to whom should I say that? Either
to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible, which I not only cannot
address but which I cannot even express in words- the Great All
or Nothing-" said he to himself, "or to that God who
has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain,
nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand,
and the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important.
The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable
pain; his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions
of his father, wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness
he had felt the night before the battle, the figure of the insignificant
little Napoleon, and above all this the lofty sky, formed the
chief subjects of his delirious fancies.
The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented
itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that
little Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing
look of shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts
and torments had followed, and only the heavens promised peace.
Toward morning all these dreams melted and merged into the chaos
and darkness of unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion
of Napoleon's doctor, Larrey, was much more likely to end in death
than in convalescence.
"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey,
"and will not recover."
And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to
the care of the inhabitants of the district.
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