On the Pratzen hill, on the very spot where he had fallen with the flagstaff in his hands, lay Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, bleeding profusely, and, unconscious of it himself, uttering a low, piteous, and childish moan.

Towards evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did not know how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt himself alive and suffering from a burning and tearing pain in his head.

"Where is it, that lofty sky which I did not know till now, and saw today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering either, — he thought. — Yes, I knew nothing, nothing till now. But where am I?"

He began to listen and heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats and voices speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him was again the same lofty sky with clouds that had risen still higher floating across it, through which the blue infinity could be seen. He did not turn his head and did not see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, rode up to him and stopped.

The horsemen who rode up were Napoleon, accompanied by two adjutants. Bonaparte, riding over the field of battle, had been giving final orders to strengthen the batteries firing at the Augezd dam, and was looking at the dead and wounded left on the field of battle.

De beaux hommes! [Fine men!] — said Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian grenadier who lay on his stomach with his face thrust into the ground, his nape blackened, and one stiffened arm flung far out.

Les munitions des pièces de position sont épuisées, sire [The ammunition of the position batteries is exhausted, sire!] — said an adjutant, who had come from the batteries firing at Augezd.

Faites avancer celles de la réserve, [Order them to be brought from the reserves,] — said Napoleon, and having ridden a few paces away, he stopped over Prince Andrei, who lay on his back with the flagstaff discarded beside him (the flag had already been taken by the French as a trophy).

Voilà une belle mort, [That is a fine death,] — said Napoleon, looking at Bolkonsky.

Prince Andrei understood that this was said of him, and that it was Napoleon speaking. He heard the person who said these words addressed as sire. But he heard these words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not only was he not interested in them, but he took no notice of them, and immediately forgot them. His head burned; he felt that he was bleeding to death, and he saw above him the distant, lofty, and eternal sky. He knew that it was Napoleon — his hero, but at that minute Napoleon seemed to him such a small, insignificant creature compared with what was passing now between his soul and that lofty, infinite sky with the clouds racing across it. It was completely all the same to him at that moment who might be standing over him or what might be said of him; he was only glad that people had stopped over him, and wished only that these people would help him and return him to life, which seemed to him so beautiful, because he now understood it so differently. He gathered all his strength to stir and make some sound. He weakly moved his leg and produced a weak, sickly moan that aroused his own pity.

— Ah! he is alive, — said Napoleon. — Lift this young man up, ce jeune homme, and carry him to the dressing station!

Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, with his hat off, smiling and congratulating him on the victory, rode up to the emperor.

Prince Andrei remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from the terrible pain caused by being placed on the stretcher, the jolting as he was moved, and the probing of the wound at the dressing station. He only came to himself at the end of the day, when he was carried to the hospital together with other Russian wounded and captured officers. On this journey he felt somewhat fresher and was able to look around and even to speak.

The first words he heard on coming to himself were the words of the French convoy officer, who said hastily:

— We must stop here: the emperor is about to pass; it will give him pleasure to see these captive gentlemen.

— There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, that he is probably tired of it, — said another officer.

— Well, but still! This one, they say, is the commander of all Emperor Alexander's Guards, — said the first, pointing to a wounded Russian officer in the white uniform of the Chevalier Guards.

Bolkonsky recognized Prince Repnin, whom he had met in Petersburg society. Beside him stood another, a nineteen-year-old boy, also a wounded officer of the Chevalier Guards.

Bonaparte, riding up at a gallop, stopped his horse.

— Who is the senior? — he said, on seeing the prisoners.

They named the colonel, Prince Repnin.

— Are you the commander of Emperor Alexander's Chevalier Guard regiment? — asked Napoleon.

— I commanded a squadron, — Repnin replied.

— Your regiment honorably did its duty, — said Napoleon.

— The praise of a great commander is a soldier's best reward, — said Repnin.

— I bestow it on you with pleasure, — said Napoleon. — Who is that young man beside you?

Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen.

Looking at him, Napoleon said, smiling:

Il est venu bien jeune se frotter à nous. [He has come very young to cross swords with us.]

— Youth does not prevent one from being brave, — said Sukhtelen in a breaking voice.

— A fine answer, — said Napoleon; young man, you will go far!

Prince Andrei, thrust forward to complete the trophy of prisoners, also caught the emperor's eye, and could not fail to attract his attention. Napoleon evidently remembered having seen him on the field, and addressing him, used the same designation of young man — jeune homme, under which Bolkonsky was first reflected in his memory.

Et vous, jeune homme? Well, and you, young man? — he turned to him, — how do you feel, mon brave?

In spite of the fact that five minutes before Prince Andrei had been able to say a few words to the soldiers carrying him, now, fixing his eyes directly on Napoleon, he remained silent... To him at that minute all the interests that engaged Napoleon seemed so insignificant, his hero himself seemed to him so petty, with this petty vanity and joy in victory, compared with that lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he had seen and understood, — that he could not answer him.

And indeed everything seemed so useless and insignificant in comparison with the stern and majestic train of thought induced in him by his loss of strength from bleeding, his suffering, and his near expectation of death. Looking into Napoleon's eyes, Prince Andrei thought of the insignificance of greatness, the insignificance of life, the meaning of which no one could understand, and the still greater insignificance of death, the meaning of which no one alive could understand or explain.

The emperor, without waiting for an answer, turned away and, as he rode off, addressed one of the commanders:

— Let these gentlemen be taken care of and conveyed to my bivouac: let my doctor Larrey examine their wounds. Au revoir, Prince Repnin, — and touching his horse, he galloped on.

On his face was the radiance of self-satisfaction and happiness.

The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrei and who had taken from him a little gold icon on a chain, which they had come upon and which had been hung on her brother by Princess Marya, seeing the kindness with which the emperor treated the prisoners, hastened to return the icon.

Prince Andrei did not see who put it on again or how, but on his chest over his uniform the icon on its fine gold chain suddenly appeared.

"It would be a good thing, — thought Prince Andrei, glancing at the icon that his sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, — it would be a good thing if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to Princess Marya. How good it would be to know where to seek help in this life and what to expect after it, there, beyond the grave! How happy and calm I should be if I could say now: Lord, have mercy on me!... But to whom shall I say it! Either a power — indefinite, incomprehensible, which I not only cannot address, but which I cannot express in words, — the great all or nothing, — he said to himself, — or else it is that God who is sewn up here, in this amulet, by Princess Marya? There is nothing, nothing certain, except the insignificance of everything I can understand, and the greatness of something incomprehensible, but most important!"

The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unbearable pain; his feverish state increased, and he began to be delirious. Those visions of his father, his wife, his sister, and his future son, and the tenderness he had felt the night before the battle, the figure of the small, insignificant Napoleon, and above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief foundation of his feverish fancies.

The quiet life and peaceful family happiness at Bald Hills presented themselves to him. He was already enjoying this happiness when suddenly the little Napoleon appeared with his indifferent, limited, and happy-from-the-misfortune-of-others look, and doubts and torments began, and only the sky promised peace. Towards morning all his dreams merged and dissolved into the chaos and darkness of unconsciousness and oblivion, which, in the opinion of Larrey himself, Napoleon's doctor, were much more likely to end in death than in convalescence.

C'est un sujet nerveux et bilieux, — said Larrey, — il n'en réchappera pas. [He is a nervous and bilious subject, he will not recover.]

Prince Andrei, among other hopeless wounded, was handed over to the care of the inhabitants.