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Book 2 Chapter 15

BEFORE FOUR O'CLOCK in the afternoon Prince Andrey, who had persisted in his petition to Kutuzov, reached Grunte, and joined Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet reached Murat's division, and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration's detachment, they knew nothing of the progress of events. They talked about peace, but did not believe in its possibility. They talked of a battle, but did not believe in a battle's being close at hand either.

Knowing Bolkonsky to be a favourite and trusted adjutant, Bagration received him with a commanding officer's special graciousness and condescension. He informed him that there would probably be an engagement that day or the next day, and gave him full liberty to remain in attendance on him during the battle, or to retire to the rear-guard to watch over the order of the retreat, also a matter of great importance.

“To-day, though, there will most likely be no action,” said Bagration, as though to reassure Prince Andrey.

“If this is one of the common run of little staff dandies, sent here to win a cross, he can do that in the rear-guard, but if he wants to be with me, let him … he'll be of use, if he's a brave officer,” thought Bagration. Prince Andrey, without replying, asked the prince's permission to ride round the position and find out the disposition of the forces, so that, in case of a message, he might know where to take it. An officer on duty, a handsome and elegantly dressed man, with a diamond ring on his forefinger, who spoke French badly, but with assurance, was summoned to conduct Prince Andrey.

On all sides they saw officers drenched through, with dejected faces, apparently looking for something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches, and fences from the village.

“Here we can't put a stop to these people,” said the staff-officer, pointing to them. “Their commanders let their companies get out of hand. And look here,” he pointed to a canteen-keeper's booth, “they gather here, and here they sit. I drove them all out this morning, and look, it's full again. I must go and scare them, prince. One moment.”

“Let us go together, and I'll get some bread and cheese there,” said Prince Andrey, who had not yet had time for a meal.

“Why didn't you mention it, prince? I would have offered you something.”

They got off their horses and went into the canteen-keeper's booth. Several officers, with flushed and exhausted 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 mustn't absent yourselves like this. The prince gave orders that no one was to leave his post. Come, really, captain,” he remonstrated with a muddy, thin little artillery officer, who in his stockings (he had given his boots to the canteen-keeper to dry) stood up at their entrance, smiling not quite naturally.

“Now aren't you ashamed, Captain Tushin?” pursued the staff-officer. “I should have thought you as an artillery officer ought to set an example, and you have no boots on. They'll sound the alarm, and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots on.” (The staff-officer smiled.) “Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all, all,” he added in a tone of authority.

Prince Andrey could not help smiling as he glanced at Captain Tushin. Smiling, without a word, Tushin shifted from one bare foot to the other, looking inquiringly, with his big, shrewd, and good-natured eyes, from Prince Andrey to the staff-officer.

“The soldiers say it's easier barefoot,” said Captain Tushin, smiling shyly, evidently anxious to carry off his awkward position in a jesting tone. But before he had uttered the words, he felt that his joke would not do and had not come off. He was in confusion.

“Kindly go to your places,” said the staff-officer, trying to preserve his gravity.

Prince Andrey glanced once more at the little figure of the artillery officer. There was something peculiar about it, utterly unsoldierly, rather comic, but very attractive.

The staff-officer and Prince Andrey got on their horses and rode on.

Riding out beyond the village, continually meeting or overtaking soldiers and officers of various ranks, they saw on the left earthworks being thrown up, still red with the freshly dug clay. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt-sleeves, in spite of the cold wind were toiling like white ants at these entrenchments; from the trench they saw spadefuls of red clay continually being thrown out by unseen hands. They rode up to the entrenchment, examined it, and were riding on further. Close behind the entrenchment they came upon dozens of soldiers continually running to and from the earthworks, and they had to hold their noses and put their horses to a gallop to get by the pestilential atmosphere of this improvised sewer.

“Voilà l'agrément des camps, monsieur le prince,” said the staff-officer. They rode up the opposite hill. From that hill they had a view of the French. Prince Andrey stopped and began looking closer at what lay before them.

“You see here is where our battery stands,” said the staff-officer, pointing to the highest point, “commanded by that queer fellow sitting without his boots; from there you can see everything; let us go there, prince.”

“I am very grateful to you, I'll go on alone now,” said Prince Andrey, anxious to be rid of the staff-officer; “don't trouble yourself further, please.”

The staff-officer left him, and Prince Andrey rode on alone.

The further forward and the nearer to the enemy he went, the more orderly and cheerful he found the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had prevailed in the transport forces before Znaim, which Prince Andrey had passed that morning, ten versts from the French. At Grunte too a certain alarm and vague dread could be felt. But the nearer Prince Andrey got to the French line, the more self-confident was the appearance of our troops. The soldiers, in their great-coats, stood ranged in lines with their sergeant, and the captain was calling over the men, poking the last soldier in the line in the ribs, and telling him to hold up his hand. Soldiers were dotted all over the plain, dragging logs and brushwood, and constructing shanties, chatting together, and laughing good-humouredly. They were sitting round the fires, dressed and stripped, drying shirts and foot-gear. Or they thronged round the porridge-pots and cauldrons, brushing their boots and their coats. In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers, with greedy faces, watched the steaming pots, and waited for the sample, which was being taken in a wooden bowl to the commissariat officer, sitting on a piece of wood facing his shanty.

In another company—a lucky one, for not all had vodka—the soldiers stood in a group round a broad-shouldered, pock-marked sergeant, who was tilting a keg of vodka, and pouring it into the covers of the canteens held out to him in turn. The soldiers, with reverential faces, lifted the covers to their mouths, drained them, and licking their lips and rubbing them with the sleeves of their coats, they walked away looking more good-humoured than before. Every face was as serene as though it were all happening not in sight of the enemy, just before an action in which at least half of the detachment must certainly be left on the field, but somewhere at home in Russia, with every prospect of a quiet halting-place. Prince Andrey rode by the Chasseur regiment, and as he advanced into the ranks of the Kiev Grenadiers, stalwart fellows all engaged in the same peaceful pursuits, not far from the colonel's shanty, standing higher than the rest, he came upon a platoon of grenadiers, before whom lay a man stripped naked. Two soldiers were holding him, while two others were brandishing supple twigs and bringing them down at regular intervals on the man's bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A stout major was walking up and down in front of the platoon, and regardless of the screams, he kept saying: “It's a disgrace for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest, honourable, and brave, and to steal from a comrade, he must be without honour indeed, a monster. Again, again!”

And still he heard the dull thuds and the desperate but affected scream.

“Again, again,” the major was saying.

A young officer, with an expression of bewilderment and distress in his face, walked away from the flogging, looking inquiringly at the adjutant.

Prince Andrey, coming out to the foremost line, rode along in front of it. Our line and the enemy's were far from one another at the left and also at the right flank; but in the centre, at the spot where in the morning the messengers had met, the lines came so close that the soldiers of the two armies could see each other's faces and talk together. Besides these soldiers, whose place was in that part of the line, many others had gathered there from both sides, and they were laughing, as they scrutinised the strange and novel dress and aspect of their foes.

Since early morning, though it was forbidden to go up to the line, the commanding officers could not keep the inquisitive soldiers back. The soldiers, whose post was in that part of the line, like showmen exhibiting some curiosity, no longer looked at the French, but made observations on the men who came up to look, and waited with a bored face to be relieved. Prince Andrey stopped to look carefully at the French.

“Look'ee, look'ee,” one soldier was saying to a comrade, pointing to a Russian musketeer, who had gone up to the lines with an officer and was talking warmly and rapidly with a French grenadier. “I say, doesn't he jabber away fine! I bet the Frenchy can't keep pace with him. Now, then, Sidorov?”

“Wait a bit; listen. Aye, it's fine!” replied Sidorov, reputed a regular scholar at talking French.

The soldier, at whom they had pointed laughing, was Dolohov. Prince Andrey recognised him and listened to what he was saying. Dolohov, together with his captain, had come from the left flank, where his regiment was posted.

“Come, again, again!” the captain urged, craning forward and trying not to lose a syllable of the conversation, though it was unintelligible to him. “Please, go on. What's he saying?”

Dolohov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot dispute with the French grenadier. They were talking, as was to be expected, of the campaign. The Frenchman, mixing up the Austrians and the Russians, was maintaining that the Russians had been defeated and had been fleeing all the way from Ulm. Dolohov declared that the Russians had never been defeated, but had beaten the French.

“We have orders to drive you away from here, and we shall too,” said Dolohov.

“You had better take care you are not all captured with all your Cossacks,” said the French grenadier.

Spectators and listeners on the French side laughed.

“We shall make you dance, as you danced in Suvorov's day” (on vous fera danser), said Dolohov.

“What is he prating about?” said a Frenchman.

“Ancient history,” said another, guessing that the allusion was to former wars. “The Emperor will show your Suvorov, like the others.…”

“Bonaparte …” Dolohov was beginning, but the Frenchman interrupted him.

“Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacré nom …” he said angrily.

“Damnation to him, your Emperor!”

And Dolohov swore a coarse soldier's oath in Russian, and, shouldering his gun, walked away.

“Come along, Ivan Lukitch,” he said to his captain.

“So that's how they talk French,” said the soldiers in the line. “Now then, you, Sidorov.” Sidorov winked, and, turning to the French, he fell to gabbling disconnected syllables very rapidly.

“Kari-ma-la-ta-fa-sa-fi-mu-ter-kess-ka,” he jabbered, trying to give the most expressive intonation to his voice.

“Ho, ho, ho! ha ha! ha ha! Oh! oo!” the soldiers burst into a roar of such hearty, good-humoured laughter, in which the French line too could not keep from joining, that after it it seemed as though they must unload their guns, blow up their ammunition, and all hurry away back to their homes. But the guns remained loaded, the port-holes in the houses and earthworks looked out as menacingly as ever, and the cannons, taken off their platforms, confronted one another as before.


下午三点多钟,安德烈公爵向库图佐夫坚决地请求,在获准之后来到格伦特,拜谒了巴格拉季翁。波拿巴的副官尚未抵达缪拉部队,因此会战仍未开始。巴格拉季翁的队伍中对整个事态的进展一无所知,人人都在谈论媾和,但都不相信媾和有实现的可能。人人都在谈论会战,但也不相信会战近在眉睫。

巴格拉季翁认为博尔孔斯基是个走红的靠得住的副官,所以他像首长厚爱部下那样接待他。他向他宣布,大概在一二日之内将要发生会战,在会战期间,他让他享有充分的自由,可以自行决定:或者留在他身边,或者留在后卫队监察撤退的秩序,“这也是极为重要的事。”

“但是在眼下大概不会发生会战。”巴格拉季翁说,好像在安慰安德烈公爵似的。

“如果他是个派来领十字勋章的司令部的普通的阔少,那他在后卫队也能得到奖励。如果他愿意留在我左右办事,那就让他干下去……如果他是个勇敢的军官,那就大有用场了。”巴格拉季翁想了想。安德烈公爵什么话也没有回答,他请求允许他去视察阵地,了解一下部队的驻地,以便在接受任务时熟悉驶行的方位。部队中值勤的军官自告奋勇地陪伴安德烈公爵,这名军官是个眉清目秀的男子汉,穿着很讲究,食指上戴着一枚钻石戒指,法国话说得蹩脚,但他乐意说。

从四面八方可以看见满面愁容、浑身湿透的军官,仿佛在寻找什么东西,还可以看见从村中拖出门板、条凳和栏栅的士兵。

“公爵,瞧,我们没法摆脱这些老百姓,”校官指着这些人,说道,“指挥官纵容他们。瞧瞧这地方,”他指了指随军商贩支起的帐篷,“都聚在一起,坐着哩。今天早上把他们统一赶出去了,瞧瞧,又挤满了人。公爵,应当走到前面去,吓唬他们一下。等一等吗?”

“我们一块儿走吧,我也得向他要点乳酪和白面包。”来不及吃点东西的安德烈公爵说。

“公爵,您为什么不说呢?我愿意款待您哩。”

他们下了马,走进了随军商贩的帐篷。数名军官现出疲惫不堪的样子,涨红了脸,坐在桌旁又吃又喝。

“啊,诸位,这究竟是怎么回事!”校官用责备的口吻说道,就像某人接连数次地重说一句同样的话,“要知道,随便离开是不行的。公爵已吩咐,不准任何人走来。哎,上尉先生,瞧您这副模样。”他把脸朝向身材矮小、形容污秽、瘦骨嶙峋的炮兵军官说道,这名军官没有穿皮靴(他把皮靴交给随军商贩烤干),只穿着一双长袜,在走进来的人面前站起来,不太自然地面露微笑。

“喂,图申上尉,您不觉得害羞吗?”校官继续说道,“您这个炮兵好像要以身作则,而您竟不穿皮靴。假如发出警报,您不穿皮靴,那就很好看了。(校官微微一笑)诸位,诸位,诸位,请各回原位。”他客气十足地补充一句。

安德烈公爵望了望上尉,情不自禁地微微一笑。图申默不作声,微露笑意,站立时把重心从一只不穿靴子的脚移至另一只脚上,他带着疑惑的样子,用他那对聪明而善良的大眼睛时而望着安德烈公爵,时而望着校官。

“士兵都说:不穿靴子更方便。”图申上尉说道,面露微笑,显得很羞怯,看起来,他想用诙谐的语调来摆脱他的窘境。

“你们都各回原位。”校官尽量保持严肃的神态,说道。

安德烈公爵又一次地望望炮兵的身段。在他身上有一种特殊的全然不是军人固有的略嫌可笑、但又异常诱人的东西。

校官和安德烈公爵都骑上马,继续前行。

他们走到村外,不断地追赶并且遇见行军的各个小队的官兵,看见正在修筑的防御工事,工事左面刚刚挖出的泥土呈露红色。寒风凛冽,几个营的士兵都穿着一件衬衣,像白蚁似地在防御工事上蠕动。望不见的人在土墙后面铲出一锹一锹的红土。他们骑马走到防御工事前面,观看了一下,便继续前进。在防御工事后面,他们碰到几十个不断轮流替换、从工事跑下来的士兵。他们只好掩住鼻子,驱马疾驰,离开这种毒气弥漫的氛围。

“Voilàagrementdescamps,monsieurleprince.”①值日校官说。

①法语:公爵,这就是兵营的乐趣。


他们骑马走到了对面山上。从这座山上可以看见法国官兵。安德烈公爵停步了,开始仔细地观察。

“瞧,这儿就是我们的炮台,”校官指着那个制高点说道,“就是那个不穿靴子坐在帐篷里的古怪人主管的炮台,从那儿什么都可以望见。公爵,让我们一道去吧。”

“感激之至,我一个人现在就走过去,”安德烈公爵说道,想避开这个校官,“请您甭费心。”

他越向前行驶,越靠近敌军,我军官兵就显得更神气、更愉快。茨奈姆离法国人有十俄里,安德烈公爵是日早晨得绕过茨奈姆;正在茨奈姆前面驶行的辎重车队的秩序极为混乱,士气也低沉。在格伦特可以觉察到某种惧怕和惊慌的气氛。安德烈公爵越走近法军的散兵线,我军官兵就越显得信心充足。一些穿着军大衣的士兵排成一行,站在那里,上士和连长在清点人数,用手指戳着班里靠边站的士兵的胸口,命令他举起手来。分布在整片空地上的士兵拖着木柴、干树枝,搭起临时用的棚子,欢快地说说笑笑。一些穿着衣服的和裸露身子的士兵都坐在篝火旁边,烧干衬衣,包脚布,或者修补皮靴和大衣,都聚集在饭锅和伙夫周围。有个连的午饭弄好了,士兵们露出贪婪的神情望着蒸气腾腾的饭锅,等候着品尝的东西,军需给养员用木钵装着品尝的东西端给坐在棚子对面圆木上的军官。

在另一个更走运的连队里,不是人人都有伏特加酒,士兵们挤成一团,站在那麻面、肩宽的上士周围,这名上士侧着小桶,向那依次地搁在手边的军用水壶盖子中斟酒。士兵们流露出虔诚的神色把军用水壶放到嘴边,将酒一倾而尽,嗽嗽口,用军大衣袖子揩揩嘴,带着快活的样子离开上士。大家的脸上非常平静,就好像这种种情形不是在敌人眼前发生,也不是在至少有半数军队要献身于沙场的战斗之前发生,而好像是在祖国某处等待着平安的设营似的。安德烈公爵越过了猎骑兵团,在基辅掷弹兵的队列中间,在那些从事和平劳作的英姿勃勃的人中间,在离那座高大的、与众不同的团长的棚子不远的地方,碰到了一排掷弹兵,一个光着身子的人躺在他们前面。两名士兵捉住他,另外两名挥动着柔软的树条,有节奏地抽挞着他的裸露的背脊,受惩罚的人异乎寻常地吼叫。一名很胖的少校在队列前头走来走去,不理睬他的吼叫声,不住口地说:

“士兵偷东西是很可耻的,士兵应当诚实、高尚而勇敢,假如偷了弟兄的东西,那就会丧失人格,那就是个恶棍。还要打!还要打!”

可以不断地听见柔软的树条抽挞的响声和那绝望的、却是假装的吼叫声。

年轻的军官流露着困惑不安和痛苦的神态,从受惩罚的人身边走开,带着疑问的目光打量着骑马从身旁走过的副官。

安德烈公爵走进前沿阵地之后,便沿着战线的前面驰去。我军和敌军的左右两翼的散兵线相距很远,但在中部地带,就是军使们早晨经过的地方,两军的散兵线相距很近,他们彼此看得清脸孔,可以交谈几句。除开在这个地方据有散兵线的士兵而外,还有许多好奇的人站在战线的两旁,他们冷讥热讽,端详着他们觉得古怪的陌生的敌人。

从清早起,虽然禁止人们走近散兵线,可是首长们没法赶走那些好奇的人。据有散兵线的士兵就像炫示什么珍宝的人们那样,已不再去观看法国官兵,而去观察向他们走来的人,寂寞无聊地等待着接班人。安德烈公爵停下来仔细观察法国官兵。

“你瞧吧,你瞧,”一名士兵指着俄国火枪兵对战友说道,火枪兵随同军官走到散兵线前面,他和法国掷弹兵急速而热烈地谈论什么事,“你瞧,他叽哩咕噜地讲得多么流利!连法国人也赶不上他哩。喂,西多罗夫,你为一句给我听听!”

“你等一下,听听吧,你瞧,多么流利啊!”被认为善于讲法国话的西多罗夫答道。

两个面露笑意的人指给人家看的那名士兵就是多洛霍夫。安德烈公爵认出他了,开始谛听他谈话。多洛霍夫随同他的连长从他们兵团驻守的左翼来到散兵线了。

“喂,再说几句吧,再说几句吧,”连长催促他说话,一面弯下腰,极力不漏掉他听不懂的每句话,“请再说快点。他说什么啦?”

多洛霍夫不回答连长的话,他卷入了跟法国掷弹兵开展的激烈的论争。他们当然是谈论战役问题。法国人把奥国人和俄国人混为一谈,他居然证明,俄国人投降了,从乌尔姆逃走了。多洛霍夫却证明,俄国人非但没有投降,而且打击了法国人。

“我们奉命在这里赶走你们,我们一定能赶走你们。”多洛霍夫说。

“只不过你们要卖力干,别让人家把你们和你们的哥萨克掳走了。”法国掷弹兵说道。

法国观众和听众笑了起来。

“要强迫你们团团转,就像苏沃洛夫在世时强迫你们团团转那样(onvousferadanser),”①多洛霍夫说道。

“Quest—cequ'ilchante?”②一个法国人说道。

“Del'histoireancienne,”③另外一个法国人猜到话题是涉及从前的战事,说道,“L'EmpereurvaluifairevoiràvotreSouvara,commeauxautres…”④

“波拿巴……”多洛霍夫本想开口说话,但是法国人打断他的话。

“不是波拿巴,是皇帝啊!Sacrèmon…⑤”他怒气冲冲地喊道。

“你们的皇帝见鬼去吧!”

①法语:要强迫你们团团转。

②法语:他在那儿乱唱什么?

③法语:古代史。

④法语:皇帝像对待其他人一样,也要教训你们的苏瓦拉一顿……(苏瓦拉即指苏沃洛夫。)

⑤法语:见鬼去……


多洛霍夫像士兵似的用俄国话粗鲁地骂了一顿,提起枪来,走开了。

“伊万·卢基奇,我们走吧,”他对连长说道。

“你看,法国话多棒,”散兵线上的士兵说道,“喂,西多罗夫,你说一句给我听听。”

西多罗夫丢了个眼色,把脸转向法国人,开始急促地嘟嚷着一些听不懂的话。

“卡里,乌拉,塔法,萨菲,木特尔,卡斯卡。”他叽哩咕噜地说,极力地想使他的语调富有表情。

“嘿,嘿,嘿!哈,哈,哈,哈!哟!哟!”士兵中间传来了快活的哄然大笑,这笑声透过散兵线无意中感染了法国人,看来在这场大笑之后就应当退出枪弹,炸毁发射药,快点四散各自回家。

但是火枪仍旧是装着弹药。房屋和防御工事里的枪眼仍然像从前那样威严地正视前方,卸下前车的大炮仍然互相对准着敌方。



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