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Volume I, Part Two, Chapter XIV

Towards four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrei, having insisted on his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunt and presented himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet reached Murat's detachment, and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration's detachment they knew nothing of the general course of events; they talked of peace but did not believe in its possibility. They talked of a battle and also did not believe in the nearness of a battle.

Bagration, knowing Bolkonsky to be a favorite and trusted adjutant, received him with special distinction and condescension, explained to him that there would probably be an engagement that day or the next, and gave him full liberty to remain with him during the battle or to be in the rear guard to watch over the order of the retreat, "which was also very important."

— However, there will probably be no action today, — said Bagration, as if to reassure Prince Andrei.

"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to get a cross, he can get his reward in the rear guard, but if he wishes to be with me, let him... he'll be useful if he's a brave officer," thought Bagration. Prince Andrei, without replying, asked the commander's permission to ride round the position to see the disposition of the forces, so as to know his bearings should he be sent on any message. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly dressed man with a diamond ring on his forefinger, who spoke French badly but with pleasure, offered to conduct Prince Andrei.

On all sides were to be seen wet officers with sad faces, who seemed to be looking for something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches, and fences from the village.

— There, we can't get rid of these people, Prince, — said the staff officer, pointing to the men. — The commanders let them go. And here, — he pointed to a sutler's tent, — they gather and sit. This morning I drove them all out; look, it's full again. I must ride up, Prince, and frighten them. One minute.

— Let's go in, and I will get some cheese and bread from him, — said Prince Andrei, who had not yet had time to eat anything.

— Why didn't you tell me, Prince? I should have offered you my own bread and salt.

They dismounted and entered the sutler's tent. Several officers, with flushed and weary faces, were sitting at the tables, eating and drinking.

— Now what does this mean, gentlemen! — said the staff officer in the reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing several times. — You know you mustn't leave your posts like this. The Prince gave orders that no one should be here. Now you, Captain, — he turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer who without his boots (he had given them to the sutler to dry), in his stockings, rose when they entered, smiling not quite naturally.

— Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin? — continued the staff officer, — one would think that as an artilleryman you ought to set a good example, yet here you are without your boots. The alarm will be sounded, and you'll cut a pretty figure without your boots. (The staff officer smiled.) Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of you, all of you, — he added with an air of authority.

Prince Andrei smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery captain, Tushin. Silent and smiling, Tushin, shifting from one bare foot to the other, looked inquiringly with his large, intelligent, and kindly eyes first at Prince Andrei and then at the staff officer.

— The soldiers say: it's more comfortable barefoot, — said Captain Tushin smiling and shy, evidently wishing to change his awkward position into a joking one.

But he had not finished his sentence before he felt that his joke had not been taken and had fallen flat. He became confused.

— Kindly return to your posts, — said the staff officer, trying to preserve his gravity.

Prince Andrei glanced once more at the artilleryman's figure. There was something peculiar about it, quite un-military, rather comical, but extremely attractive.

The staff officer and Prince Andrei mounted their horses and rode on.

Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left some entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay showing red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves despite the cold wind, were swarming like white ants in these entrenchments; spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown up from behind the bank by unseen hands. They rode up to the entrenchment, examined it, and went on. Just behind it they came upon some dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by others, who were running from the entrenchment. They had to hold their noses and put their horses to a trot to escape from the poisoned atmosphere.

— Voilà l'agrément des camps, monsieur le prince, [There is the pleasure of camps, Prince,] — said the staff officer on duty.

They rode up the opposite hill. From this hill the French were already visible. Prince Andrei stopped and began to examine the scene.

— There's our battery, — said the staff officer, pointing to the highest point, — it belongs to that queer fellow who was sitting without his boots; you can see everything from there: let's go, Prince.

— Thank you very much, I will go on alone now, — said Prince Andrei, wishing to rid himself of the staff officer, — please don't trouble yourself.

The staff officer remained behind, and Prince Andrei rode on alone.

The farther forward and nearer to the enemy he went, the more orderly and cheerful was the appearance of the troops. The greatest disorder and despondency had been in the baggage train before Znaim which Prince Andrei had passed that morning, and which was ten versts from the French. At Grunt too a certain alarm and fear of something was felt. But the nearer Prince Andrei came to the French line, the more self-confident became the appearance of our troops. The soldiers in their greatcoats were ranged in line, and the sergeant major and company commander were counting the men, poking the last man of a section in the breast and telling him to hold up his hand; soldiers scattered over the whole area were dragging logs and brushwood and building shelters, laughing merrily and talking; round the fires sat men dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg bands, or mending boots and overcoats, and crowding round the cauldrons and the company cooks. In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers with greedy faces watched the steaming cauldrons and waited for the sample which a quartermaster sergeant was bringing in a wooden bowl to the officer sitting on a log before his shelter.

In another, more fortunate company, as not everyone had vodka, the soldiers crowded round a broad-shouldered, pock-marked sergeant major who, tilting a keg, was pouring out liquor into the covers of the canteens held out to him in turn. The soldiers, with reverent faces, lifted the canteen covers to their lips, tipped them up, and rinsing their mouths and wiping them with the sleeves of their greatcoats, went away from the sergeant major looking more cheerful. All their faces were as serene as if all this were happening not in sight of the enemy, just before an action where at least half of the detachment would be left on the field, but somewhere at home awaiting a peaceful cantonment. Having passed a regiment of Chasseurs, and in the ranks of the Kiev Grenadiers, dashing fellows occupied with the same peaceful affairs, Prince Andrei came, not far from the high shelter of the regimental commander, which distinguished it from the rest, to a platoon of grenadiers in front of whom lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him, and two others wielded supple twigs and struck his bare back rhythmically. The man being punished was screaming unnaturally. A stout major was walking up and down in front of the line, and, without stopping or paying attention to the screams, kept saying:

— It's a shame for a soldier to steal, a soldier must be honest, honorable, and brave; and if he steals from his fellow, he has no honor in him; he is a scoundrel. Go on, go on!

And still the supple strokes and the desperate but feigned screams were heard.

— Go on, go on, — repeated the major.

A young officer, with an expression of perplexity and suffering on his face, walked away from the man being punished, looking inquiringly at the adjutant as he rode past.

Prince Andrei, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our line and the enemy's were far apart on the right and left flanks, but in the center, where the emissaries had passed that morning, the lines were so close that the men could see one another's faces and talk together. Besides the soldiers who formed the picket line in this place, there were many sightseers on both sides who, laughing, examined the strange and alien enemies.

Since early morning, in spite of the prohibition against approaching the picket line, the commanders had been unable to keep back the sightseers. The soldiers forming the picket line, like people exhibiting a rarity, no longer looked at the French, but made their observations on the newcomers, and, bored, waited to be relieved. Prince Andrei stopped to look at the French.

— Look, look, — one soldier was saying to his comrade, pointing to a Russian musketeer who with an officer had gone up to the picket line and was talking rapidly and warmly to a French grenadier. — See how glibly he chatters! The Frenchman can't keep up with him. Now then, Sidorov!

— Wait, listen. Ah, clever! — answered Sidorov, who was considered a master of French.

The soldier at whom the laughers were pointing was Dolokhov. Prince Andrei recognized him and listened to his conversation. Dolokhov, together with his company commander, had come to the picket line from the left flank, where their regiment was stationed.

— Come, go on, go on! — urged the company commander, leaning forward and trying not to lose a single word, though he understood none of it. — Please, more. What's he saying?

Dolokhov did not answer the commander; he was involved in a hot dispute with the French grenadier. They were, as was naturally to be expected, talking about the campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, proved that the Russians had surrendered and fled from Ulm itself; Dolokhov proved that the Russians had not surrendered, but had beaten the French.

— Here we have orders to drive you away, and we shall do it, — said Dolokhov.

— Only take care you aren't taken prisoner with all your Cossacks, — said the French grenadier.

The French spectators and listeners laughed.

— We'll make you dance as you danced under Suvorov (on vous fera danser), [we'll make you dance,] — said Dolokhov.

— Qu'est-ce qu'il chante? [What's he singing about?] — asked a Frenchman.

— De l'histoire ancienne, [Ancient history,] — said another, guessing that the subject was former wars. — L'Empereur va lui faire voir à votre Souvara, comme aux autres... [The Emperor will show your Suvara, as he did the others...]

— Bonaparte... — Dolokhov began, but the Frenchman interrupted him.

— Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacré nom... [Damn it...] — he shouted angrily.

— The devil take your Emperor!

And Dolokhov swore in Russian, coarsely, in a soldier-like way, and, shouldering his musket, walked away.

— Let us go, Ivan Lukich, — he said to the company commander.

— Now that's French, — said the soldiers in the line. — Now then, Sidorov!

Sidorov winked, and turning to the French, began to jabber incomprehensible words rapidly:

— Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, Kaskà, — he jabbered, trying to give expressive intonations to his voice.

— Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ugh! Ugh! — a roar of such hearty and merry laughter burst from the soldiers, involuntarily communicating itself through the picket line to the French, that after that one felt that they ought to discharge their muskets, blow up the ammunition, and all go home as quickly as possible.

But the muskets remained loaded, the loopholes in houses and redoubts looked out as menacingly as before, and the unlimbered cannon remained facing one another as before.