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Book 2 Chapter 7

OVER THE BRIDGE two of the enemy's shots had already flown and there was a crush on the bridge. In the middle of the bridge stood Nesvitsky. He had dismounted and stood with his stout person jammed against the railings. He looked laughingly back at his Cossack, who was standing several paces behind him holding the two horses by their bridles. Every time Nesvitsky tried to move on, the advancing soldiers and waggons bore down upon him and shoved him back against the railings. There was nothing for him to do but to smile.

“Hi there, my lad,” said the Cossack to a soldier in charge of a waggon-load who was forcing his way through the foot-soldiers that pressed right up to his wheels and his horses; “what are you about? No, you wait a bit; you see the general wants to pass.”

But the convoy soldier, taking no notice of the allusion to the general, bawled to the soldiers who blocked the way: “Hi! fellows, keep to the left! wait a bit!” But the fellows, shoulder to shoulder, with their bayonets interlocked, moved over the bridge in one compact mass. Looking down over the rails, Prince Nesvitsky saw the noisy, rapid, but not high waves of the Enns, which, swirling in eddies round the piles of the bridge, chased one another down stream. Looking on the bridge he saw the living waves of the soldiers, all alike as they streamed by: shakoes with covers on them, knapsacks, bayonets, long rifles, and under the shakoes broad-jawed faces, sunken cheeks, and looks of listless weariness, and legs moving over the boards of the bridge, that were coated with sticky mud. Sometimes among the monotonous streams of soldiers, like a crest of white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer forced his way through, in a cloak, with a face of a different type from the soldiers. Sometimes, like a chip whirling on the river, there passed over the bridge among the waves of infantry a dismounted hussar, an orderly, or an inhabitant of the town. Sometimes, like a log floating down the river, there moved over the bridge, hemmed in on all sides, a baggage-waggon, piled up high and covered with leather covers.

“Why, they're like a river bursting its banks,” said the Cossack, stopping hopelessly. “Are there many more over there?”

“A million, all but one!” said a cheerful soldier in a torn coat, winking, as he passed out of sight; after him came another soldier, an older man.

“If he” (he meant the enemy) “starts popping at the bridge just now,” said the old soldier dismally, addressing his companion, “you'll forget to scratch yourself.” And he passed on. After him came another soldier riding on a waggon.

“Where the devil did you put the leg-wrappers?” said an orderly, running after the waggon and fumbling in the back part of it. And he too passed on with the waggon.

Then came some hilarious soldiers, who had unmistakably been drinking.

“And didn't he up with the butt end of his gun and give him one right in the teeth,” one soldier was saying gleefully with a wide sweep of his arm.

“It just was a delicious ham,” answered the other with a chuckle. And they passed on, so that Nesvitsky never knew who had received the blow in his teeth, and what the ham had to do with it.

“Yes, they're in a hurry now! When he let fly a bit of cold lead, one would have thought they were all being killed,” said an under officer, angrily and reproachfully.

“When it whizzed by me, uncle, the bullet,” said a young soldier with a huge mouth, scarcely able to keep from laughing, “I turned fairly numb. Upon my soul, wasn't I in a fright, to be sure!” said the soldier, making a sort of boast of his terror.

He, too, passed on. After him came a waggon unlike all that had passed over before. It was a German Vorspann with two horses, loaded, it seemed, with the goods of a whole household. The horses were led by a German, and behind was fastened a handsome, brindled cow with an immense udder. On piled-up feather-beds sat a woman with a small baby, an old woman, and a good-looking, rosy-cheeked German girl. They were evidently country people, moving, who had been allowed through by special permit. The eyes of all the soldiers were turned upon the women, and, while the waggon moved by, a step at a time, all the soldiers' remarks related to the two women. Every face wore almost the same smile, reflecting indecent ideas about the women.

“Hey, the sausage, he's moving away!”

“Sell us your missis,” said another soldier, addressing the German, who strode along with downcast eyes, looking wrathful and alarmed.

“See how she's dressed herself up! Ah, you devils!”

“I say, wouldn't you like to be billeted on them, Fedotov!”

“I know a thing or two, mate!”

“Where are you going?” asked the infantry officer, who was eating an apple. He too was half smiling and staring at the handsome girl. The German, shutting his eyes, signified that he did not understand.

“Take it, if you like,” said the officer, giving the girl an apple. The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitsky, like all the men on the bridge, never took his eyes off the women till they had passed by. When they had passed by, again there moved by the same soldiers, with the same talk, and at last all came to a standstill. As often happens, the horses in a convoy-waggon became unmanageable at the end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait.

“What are they standing still for? There's no order kept!” said the soldiers. “Where are you shoving?” “Damn it!” “Can't you wait a little?” “It'll be a bad look-out if he sets light to the bridge.”

“Look, there's an officer jammed in too,” the soldiers said in different parts of the stationary crowd, as they looked about them and kept pressing forward to the end of the bridge. Looking round at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitsky suddenly heard a sound new to him, the sound of something rapidly coming nearer … something big, and then a splash in the water.

“Look where it reaches to!” a soldier standing near said sternly, looking round at the sound.

“He's encouraging us to get on quicker,” said another uneasily. The crowd moved again. Nesvitsky grasped that it was a cannon ball.

“Hey, Cossack, give me my horse!” he said. “Now then, stand aside! stand aside! make way!”

With a mighty effort he succeeded in getting to his horse. Shouting continually, he moved forward. The soldiers pressed together to make way for him, but jammed upon him again, so that they squeezed his leg, and those nearest him were not to blame, for they were pressed forward even more violently from behind.

“Nesvitsky! Nesvitsky! You, old chap!” he heard a husky voice shouting from behind at that instant.

Nesvitsky looked round and saw, fifteen paces away, separated from him by a living mass of moving infantry, the red and black and tousled face of Vaska Denisov with a forage-cap on the back of his head, and a pelisse swung jauntily over his shoulder.

“Tell them to make way, the damned devils!” roared Denisov, who was evidently in a great state of excitement. He rolled his flashing, coal-black eyes, showing the bloodshot whites, and waved a sheathed sword, which he held in a bare hand as red as his face.

“Eh! Vaska!” Nesvitsky responded joyfully. “But what are you about?”

“The squadron can't advance!” roared Vaska Denisov, viciously showing his white teeth, and spurring his handsome, raven thoroughbred “Bedouin,” which, twitching its ears at the bayonets against which it pricked itself, snorting and shooting froth from its bit, tramped with metallic clang on the boards of the bridge, and seemed ready to leap over the railings, if its rider would let it.

“What next! like sheep! for all the world like sheep; back … make way! … Stand there! go to the devil with the waggon! I'll cut you down with my sword!” he roared, actually drawing his sword out of the sheath and beginning to brandish it.

The soldiers, with terrified faces, squeezed together, and Denisov joined Nesvitsky.

“How is it you're not drunk to-day?” said Nesvitsky, when he came up.

“They don't even give us time to drink!” answered Vaska Denisov. “They've been dragging the regiment to and fro the whole day. Fighting's all very well, but who the devil's to know what this is!”

“How smart you are to-day!” said Nesvitsky, looking at his new pelisse and fur saddle-cloth.

Denisov smiled, pulled out of his sabretache a handkerchief that diffused a smell of scent, and put it to Nesvitsky's nose.

“To be sure, I'm going into action! I've shaved, and cleaned my teeth and scented myself!”

Nesvitsky's imposing figure, accompanied by his Cossack, and the determination of Denisov, waving his sword and shouting desperately, produced so much effect that they stopped the infantry and got to the other end of the bridge. Nesvitsky found at the entry the colonel, to whom he had to deliver the command, and having executed his commission he rode back.

Having cleared the way for him, Denisov stopped at the entrance of the bridge. Carelessly holding in his horse, who neighed to get to his companions, and stamped with its foot, he looked at the squadron moving towards him. The clang of the hoofs on the boards of the bridge sounded as though several horses were galloping, and the squadron, with the officers in front, drew out four men abreast across the bridge and began emerging on the other side.

The infantry soldiers, who had been forced to stop, crowding in the trampled mud of the bridge, looked at the clean, smart hussars, passing them in good order, with that special feeling of aloofness and irony with which different branches of the service usually meet.

“They're a smart lot! They ought to be on the Podnovinsky!”

“They're a great deal of use! They're only for show!” said another.

“Infantry, don't you kick up a dust!” jested a hussar, whose horse, prancing, sent a spurt of mud on an infantry soldier.

“I should like to see you after two long marches with the knapsack on your shoulder. Your frogs would be a bit shabby,” said the foot-soldier, rubbing the mud off his face with his sleeve; “perched up there you're more like a bird than a man!”

“Wouldn't you like to be popped on a horse, Zikin; you'd make an elegant rider,” jested a corporal at a thin soldier, bowed down by the weight of his knapsack.

“Put a stick between your legs and you'd have a horse to suit you,” responded the hussar.


两枚敌人的圆形炮弹飞过桥梁的上空,桥上显得拥挤不堪。涅斯维茨基在桥中间下马,站立着,他那胖乎乎的身子紧紧地靠在栏杆上,他含笑地掉过头来望了望哥萨克,他牵着两匹马在涅斯维茨基身后几步远的地方停步了。涅斯维茨基刚想向前走去,一群士兵和车辆又把他挤得不能动弹,他又被紧紧地逼到栏杆上,一筹莫展,只好苦笑罢了。

“老弟,你真是!”哥萨克对那赶车的辎重兵说道,这个辎重兵从车轮和马匹旁边麇集的步兵中用力挤过去,“你真是!你不能不等一等,你明明看见将军要过桥。”

有人道出了将军的姓名,但是这个辎重兵并不理会,他大声斥责那些拦住他的去路的士兵。

“喂!乡亲们!请靠左走,等一等!”

可是,乡亲们互相拥挤,肩膀碰着肩膀,刺刀挂着刺刀,密密麻麻的一片从桥上源源不断地行进。涅斯维茨基朝着栏杆向桥下望了一眼,看见恩斯河上湍急的喧嚣的浪涛,然而浪头不高,在桥桩四周汇合起来,泛起了一片涟漪,然后折回,后浪推前浪,奔腾不息。他朝桥上打量了一番,看见同类的士兵的浪涛——士兵、饰穗、套上布罩的高筒军帽、背包、刺刀、长枪,还看见高筒军帽下露出的疲惫的面容,宽大的颧骨,凹陷的两颊,还有在黏满桥板的泥泞中行走的双腿。有时候,俨如恩斯河的浪涛中飞溅的白沫,在士兵的浪涛中混进一个披着雨衣、相貌和士兵截然不同的军官。有时候,俨如河中一块荡漾的木片,一个步行的骠骑兵、勤务兵或者是居民从桥上经过,被士兵的浪涛冲走了。有时候,俨如河上飘浮的圆木,一辆连队的大车或是军官的大车,满载着物件,覆盖着皮革,在四周的众人护卫下从桥上驶行。

“你看,像堤坝被冲决了似的,”一名哥萨克绝望地停住脚步,说道,“那儿还有很多人吗?”

“差一个就满一百万!”一名穿着破军大衣、从附近走过的快活的士兵递着眼色,说道,随即看不见了。

“候如他(他即指敌人)立刻在桥上烤起馅饼来,”一名老兵向他的伙伴转过脸去,面色阴沉地说道,“那你就什么都会忘掉的。”

这名老兵从身边走过去,一名乘坐大车的士兵跟在他后面驶行。

“见鬼,包脚布塞到哪里去了?”一名勤务兵跟在大车后面飞奔,一面在大车的尾部摸索着寻找,他说道。

这名士兵也跟随大车走过去了。

有几名士兵现出愉快的神情,看起来像是喝过一顿酒,他们跟在这个士兵后面走去。

“他这个好人用枪托照准牙齿捅了一下……”一个把军大衣掖得很高的士兵使劲地挥动手臂,兴高采烈地说道。

“是呀,是呀,正是那甜滋滋的火腿。”另一名士兵哈哈大笑地答道。

他们也走过去了。涅斯维茨基不知道打了谁的牙齿,火腿意味着什么,有什么内在的联系。

“你瞧,他们手忙脚乱的!他只开了一炮,就自以为敌人全被打死了。”一个士官带着气忿和责备的神态说道。

“大叔,那炮弹从我身边飞过去了,”长着一张大嘴巴的年轻士兵几乎忍不住要笑出声来,他说道,“我简直吓呆了。说实话,我吓坏了,真要命!”这个士兵说道,好像在炫耀他胆怯似的。

这个士兵也走过去了。一辆大马车跟在他后面,它和以前驶过的大马车都不相像。这是一辆德国制造的双套长车身马车,车上运载的仿佛是全部家当。一个德国男人驾着马车,这辆马车后面绑着一头乳头很大的好看的花母牛。一个抱着婴孩的妇人、老太婆和一个两颊绯红、年轻而健康的德国姑娘坐在绒毛褥子上。看起来,这些移民是凭特殊许可证通行的。士兵们的目光都投射到妇人们身上,当这辆大车一步一步地驶过时,士兵们评论的内容只是和这两个妇人有关的话。大家的脸上几乎同样地流露出对这个妇人怀有淫猥念头的笑容。

“瞧,德国香肠(德国人的绰号)也落荒了!”

“把娘儿卖掉吧。”另一个士兵把脸转向德国人说道,说话时重音落在最后一个音节上,那个德国人垂下眼帘,气忿而惊恐地迈着大步向前走去。

“你瞧,打扮得这么漂亮!真见鬼!”

“费多托夫,你应当在她们附近扎营!”

“老兄,我们是有见识的。”

“你们到哪里去呢?”一个正在吃苹果的步兵军官问道,他也半露笑容地打量着那个美丽的姑娘。

德国人闭上眼睛,表示他听不懂意思。

“你想吃,就拿去吧。”军官说道,一面把苹果递给姑娘。

姑娘微微一笑,拿了一个苹果。涅斯维茨基像所有站在桥上的人那样,在两个妇人还没有乘车驶过之前,他也目不转睛地望着她们。当她们驶过之后,又有同样的士兵,谈着同样的话题向前走过来,大伙儿终于停住了。到了桥头,连队的大车上的马匹不听驾驶了,一群人只得呆在那里等候。

“干嘛都停滞不前呢?没有秩序了!”士兵们说道,“你硬往哪里闯?见鬼!不能不等一下子。假使他烧毁桥梁,那就更糟了。你瞧,他们把那个军官挤得无路可走。”站着的一大群人面面相觑,谈东道西,还在桥头上挤来挤去。

涅斯维茨基朝桥底下望了望恩斯河的滚滚流水,忽然间听见一种奇异的响声,好像有什么东西疾速地靠近……这东西体积很大,扑通一声落到水中。

“你瞧,射到哪里去了!”一个站在附近的士兵听见响声就掉过头来瞥了一眼,严肃地说道。

“他正在鼓励我们,希望我们快点儿过去。”另一名士兵焦急不安地说道。

一群人又开始向前移动。涅斯维茨基心里明白这是一枚炮弹。

“喂,哥萨克,把马儿牵过来!”他说道,“喂,你们大家闪到一边去!闪开点儿,让出一条路来!”

他费了很大的劲才走到马儿前面。他不断地喊叫,缓慢地向前移动。士兵们挤缩在一起,给他让路,可是又复把他挤得很紧,踩痛了他的腿。站在他附近的人没有过失,因为他们被挤得更厉害。

“涅斯维茨基!涅斯维茨基!你这个丑家伙!”这时他后面传来嘶哑的嗓音。

涅斯维茨基回头一看,看见了瓦西卡·杰尼索夫,他离涅斯维茨基有十五步路远,一大群向前移动的步兵把他们隔开了;杰尼索夫两脸通红,头发黝黑,十分蓬乱,后脑勺上戴着一顶军帽,雄赳赳地披着一件骠骑兵披肩。

“你吩咐这班鬼东西让路。”杰尼索夫大声喊道,看起来他又发火了。他那对煤炭一般乌黑的眼珠在发炎的眼白中闪闪发光,骨碌碌地乱转,他那和脸膛一股通红的裸露的小手握着一柄未出鞘的马刀,不时地挥动着。

“哎,瓦夏!”涅斯维茨基愉快地答道,“你怎么样?”

“骑兵连没法子走过去,”瓦西卡·杰尼索夫恶狠狠地露出洁白的牙齿,用马刺刺着那匹好看的乌骓贝杜英,高声喊道,那匹乌骓碰到刺刀尖,抖动着耳朵,打着响鼻,从马嚼子上喷出白沫,铃铛丁零丁零地响着,马蹄子踩着桥板,发出咚咚的声音,假如骑马的人允许,它似乎准备跨过桥栏杆跳下去。

“这是什么名堂?像一群绵羊,俨像一群绵羊!滚开!……让出一条路来!……在那儿站住吧!这辆大马车,真见鬼!我要用马刀砍了!”他大声喊道,真的从鞘中拔出马刀,挥动起来。

士兵们面露惊恐的神色,挤缩在一起了,杰尼索夫于是走到涅斯维茨基身边去。

“你怎么今日没有喝醉呢?”当杰尼索夫向他驶近时,涅斯维茨基说道。

“哪有喝酒的工夫!”瓦西卡·杰尼索夫答道,“整天价把兵团拉到这儿,又拉到那儿。要打仗,就打仗吧。其实,鬼才知道这是怎么回事!”

“今天你是个穿得很漂亮的人啊!”涅斯维茨基望着他的一件新斗篷、新鞍垫说道。

杰尼索夫微微一笑,从皮囊里取出一条散发着香水气味的手帕,向涅斯维茨基的鼻孔边塞去。

“不行,作战用得着我嘛!我剃了脸,刷了牙,喷了香水。”

涅斯维茨基由哥萨克兵陪伴,外貌威严;杰尼索夫手挥马刀,大喊大叫,举动果敢,发挥了效力,他们挤缩到桥梁的那边,把步兵拦阻住了。涅斯维茨基在桥头找到了上校,涅斯维茨基应当把命令转告他,在执行了委托的任务之后就返回原地去了。

杰尼索夫扫清了道路上的障碍,在桥头停步了。他很随便地勒住跺着蹄子向自己同类冲去的公马,端详着迎面走来的骑兵连官兵。桥板上可以听见清脆悦耳的马蹄声,好像有几匹马儿在飞速奔驰,骑兵连的队伍四人一排,军官们站在前头,一字长蛇阵似地从桥上走过,队列开始走出那边的桥头。

停步不前的步兵在桥边的烂泥地上挤来挤去,带着不同的兵种相遇时常会产生的那种敌对的互相讥讽的格格不入的特殊情感,望着步伐整齐地从他们身旁走过的衣着讲究而整洁的骠骑兵。

“穿得多么漂亮的小伙子啊!只好去赶波德诺文斯克庙会啦!”

“他们有什么用场啊!只能摆出来做个样子给人看!”另一个士兵说道。

“步兵们,不要把尘埃扬起来!”一个骠骑兵开了个玩笑,他骑着的那匹马一踢蹄子,就把烂泥溅到了那个步兵身上了。

“你带着背囊,把你赶去行军才好,让你走上两昼夜的路,你那细带子准会磨破的,”那个步兵用袖筒揩去脸上的烂泥,说道,“那你就不像个人了,像只鸟儿搂在马身上!”

“济金,真想让你骑在马身上哩,那你就很舒服了。”上等兵讥笑那个被背囊压得弯腰驼背的消瘦的士兵,打趣地说。

“你拿根棍子架在胯裆时,那你就有一匹马了。”一名骠骑兵应声说道。



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