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Book 7 Chapter 5

NIKOLAY ROSTOV was standing meanwhile at his post waiting for the wolf. He was aware of what must be taking place within the copse from the rush of the pack coming closer and going further away, from the cries of the dogs, whose notes were familiar to him, from the nearness, and then greater remoteness, and sudden raising of the voices of the huntsmen. He knew that there were both young and also old wolves in the enclosure. He knew the hounds had divided into two packs, that in one place they were close on the wolf, and that something had gone wrong. Every second he expected the wolf on his side. He made a thousand different suppositions of how and at what spot the wolf would run out, and how he would set upon it. Hope was succeeded by despair. Several times he prayed to God that the wolf would rush out upon him. He prayed with that feeling of passion and compunction with which men pray in moments of intense emotion due to trivial causes. “Why, what is it to Thee,” he said to God, “to do this for me? I know Thou art great and that it's a sin to pray to Thee about this, but for God's sake do make the old wolf come out upon me, and make Karay fix his teeth in his throat and finish him before the eyes of ‘uncle,' who is looking this way.” A thousand times over in that half-hour, with intent, strained, and uneasy eyes Rostov scanned the thickets at the edge of the copse with two scraggy oaks standing up above the undergrowth of aspen, and the ravine with its overhanging bank, and “uncle's” cap peering out from behind a bush on the right. “No, that happiness is not to be,” thought Rostov, “yet what would it cost Him! It's not to be! I'm always unlucky, at cards, in war, and everything.” Austerlitz and Dolohov flashed in distinct but rapid succession through his imagination. “Only once in my life to kill an old wolf; I ask for nothing beyond!” he thought, straining eyes and ears, looking from left to right, and back again, and listening to the slightest fluctuations in the sounds of the dogs. He looked again to the right and saw something running across the open ground towards him. “No, it can't be!” thought Rostov, taking a deep breath, as a man does at the coming of what he has long been hoping for. The greatest piece of luck had come to him, and so simply, without noise, or flourish, or display to signalise it. Rostov could not believe his eyes, and this uncertainty lasted more than a second. The wolf was running forward; he leaped clumsily over a rut that lay across his path.

It was an old wolf with a grey back and full, reddish belly. He was running without haste, plainly feeling secure of being unseen. Rostov held his breath and looked round at the dogs. They were lying and standing about, not seeing the wolf and quite unaware of him. Old Karay had his head turned round, and was angrily searching for a flea, snapping his yellow teeth on his haunches. “Loo! loo! loo!” Rostov whispered, pouting out his lips. The dogs leaped up, jingling the iron rings of the leashes, and pricked up their ears. Karay scratched his hind-leg and got up, pricking up his ears and wagging his tail, on which there were hanging matted locks of his coat.

“Loose them? or not loose them?” Nikolay said to himself as the wolf moved away from the copse towards him. All at once the whole physiognomy of the wolf was transformed. He started, seeing—probably for the first time—human eyes fixed upon him; and, turning his head a little towards Rostov, stood still, in doubt whether to go back or forward. “Ay! Never mind, forward!…” the wolf seemed to be saying to himself, and he pushed on ahead, without looking round, softly and not rapidly, with an easy but resolute movement. “Loo! loo!…” Nikolay cried in a voice not his own, and of its own accord his gallant horse galloped at break-neck pace downhill, and leaped over the watercourse to cut off the wolf's retreat; the hounds dashed on even more swiftly, overtaking it.

Nikolay did not hear his own cry; he had no consciousness of galloping; he saw neither the dogs nor the ground over which he galloped. He saw nothing but the wolf, which, quickening its pace, was bounding in the same direction across the glade. Foremost of the hounds was the black and tan, broad-backed bitch, Milka, and she was getting close upon him. But the wolf turned a sidelong glance upon her, and instead of flying at him, as she always had done, Milka suddenly stopped short, her fore-legs held stiffly before her and her tail in the air.

“Loo! loo! loo!” shouted Nikolay.

The red hound, Lyubima, darted forward from behind Milka, dashed headlong at the wolf, and got hold of him by the hind-leg, but in the same second bounded away on the other side in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed its teeth, rose again, and bounded forward, followed at a couple of yards' distance by all the dogs: they did not try to get closer.

“He'll get away! No, it's impossible!” thought Nikolay, still shouting in a husky voice.

“Karay! Loo! loo!…” he kept shouting, looking for the old hound, who was his one hope now.

Karay, straining his old muscles to the utmost, and watching the wolf intently, was bounding clumsily away from the beast, to cut across his path in front of him. But it was plain from the swiftness of the wolf's course and the slowness of the hounds that Karay was out in his reckoning. Nikolay saw the copse not far now ahead of him. If once the wolf reached it, he would escape to a certainty. But in front dogs and men came into sight, dashing almost straight towards the wolf. There was still hope. A long, young hound, not one of the Rostovs'—Nikolay did not recognise him—flew from in front straight at the wolf, and almost knocked him over. The wolf got up again with a surprising rapidity and flew at the young hound; his teeth clacked, and the hound, covered with blood from a gash in his side, thrust its head in the earth, squealing shrilly.

“Karay! old man!” Nikolay wailed.

The old dog, with the tufts of matted hair, quivering on his haunches, had succeeded, thanks to the delay, in cutting across the wolf's line of advance, and was now five paces in front of him. The wolf stole a glance at Karay, as though aware of his danger, and tucking his tail further between his legs, he quickened his pace. But then—Nikolay could only see that something was happening with Karay—the hound had dashed instantly at the wolf and had rolled in a struggling heap with him into the watercourse before them.

The moment when Nikolay saw the dogs struggling with the wolf in the watercourse, saw the wolf's grey coat under them, his outstretched hind-leg, his head gasping in terror, and his ears turned back (Karay had him by the throat)—the moment when Nikolay saw all this was the happiest moment of his life. He had already grasped the pommel of his saddle to dismount and stab the wolf, when suddenly the beast's head was thrust up above the mass of dogs, then his fore-legs were on the bank of the watercourse. The wolf clacked his teeth (Karay had not hold of his throat now), leaped with his hind-legs out of the hollow, and with his tail between his legs, pushed forward, getting away from the dogs again. Karay, his hair starting up, had difficulty in getting out of the water-course; he seemed to be bruised or wounded. “My God, why is this!” Nikolay shouted in despair. The uncle's huntsman galloped across the line of the wolf's advance from the other side, and again his hounds stopped the wolf, again he was hemmed in.

Nikolay, his groom, the uncle, and his huntsman pranced about the beast with shouts and cries of “loo,” every minute on the point of dismounting when the wolf crouched back, and dashing forward again every time the wolf shook himself free and moved towards the copse, where his safety lay.

At the beginning of this onset Danilo, hearing the hunters' cries, had darted out of the copse. He saw that Karay had hold of the wolf and checked his horse, supposing the deed was done. But seeing that the hunters did not dismount from their horses, and that the wolf was shaking himself free, and again making his escape, Danilo galloped his own horse, not towards the wolf, but in a straight line towards the copse, to cut him off, as Karay had done. Thanks to this man?uvre, he bore straight down on the wolf when the uncle's dogs had a second time fallen behind him.

Danilo galloped up in silence, holding a drawn dagger in his left hand, and thrashing the heaving sides of his chestnut horse with his riding whip, as though it were a flail.

Nikolay neither saw nor heard Danilo till his panting chestnut darted close by him, and he heard the sound of a falling body and saw Danilo lying in the midst of the dogs on the wolf's back, trying to get him by the ears. It was obvious to the dogs, to the hunters, and to the wolf that all was over now. The beast, its ears drawn back in terror, tried to get up, but the dogs clung to him. Danilo, as he got up, stumbled, and as though sinking down to rest, rolled with all his weight on the wolf, and snatched him by the ears. Nikolay would have stabbed him, but Danilo whispered: “Don't; we will string him up!” and shifting his position he put his foot on the wolf's neck. They put a stick in the wolf's jaws, fastened it, as it were bridling him with a leash, and tied his legs. Danilo swung the wolf twice from side to side. With happy, exhausted faces they tied the great wolf alive on a horse, that started and snorted in alarm at it; and with all the dogs trooping after and whining at the wolf, they brought it to the place where all were to meet. The wolfhounds had captured two cubs, and the greyhounds three. The party met together to show their booty and tell their stories, and every one went to look at the big wolf, which with its heavy-browed head hanging downward and the stick in its teeth, gazed with its great, glassy eyes at the crowd of dogs and men around it. When they touched him, his fastened legs quivered and he looked wildly and yet simply at all of them. Count Ilya Andreitch too went up and touched the wolf.

“Oh, what a great beast!” he said. “He's an old one, eh?” he asked Danilo, who was standing near him.

“That he is, your excellency,” answered Danilo, hurriedly taking off his cap.

The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and Danilo's outburst.

“You have a hot temper though, my man,” said the count.

Danilo said nothing, but he shyly smiled a smile of childlike sweetness and amiability.


与此同时,尼古拉·罗斯托夫站在原地伺候野兽。他凭猎犬追捕野兽的吠声的远近,凭他所熟悉的猎犬的吠声,凭猎犬训练管理人的喊声的远、近与声高,他就能够感觉到那座孤林里发生的情况。他知道,在这座孤林里面藏有狼崽(幼小的豺狼)和大狼(老豺狼),他知道猎犬已分成两群,他们都在某个地方用猎犬追捕野兽,而且知道发生了什么不很顺遂的事情。他时时刻刻等候野兽走到自己这边来。他做过几千次不同的推测,认为野兽会怎样跑出来,从哪个方向跑出来,他怎样用猎狗追捕野兽。但是希望代之以绝望。他好几次向上帝,祈祷,希望有只豺狼向他走来,他怀着那种强烈而真诚的感情做祷告,正如人们为了小事而极度激动时祷告一样。“唔,你只要,”他对上帝说,“为我办成这件事!我知道你很伟大,请求你做这件事真是罪过;但是看在上帝份上,做一件好事,叫那只大狼钻到我面前来,叫卡拉伊当着向那边观察的‘大叔'的面,拼命地咬住大狼的喉咙。”就在这半个钟头以内,罗斯托夫用那紧张而不安的、逼视的目光千次地打量森林的边缘,一些别种幼树夹杂在山杨树中间,上面耸立着两颗稀疏的橡树,他还注视着被雨水冲掉边缘的沟壑以及右面那座灌木林后依稀可辨的大叔的皮帽。

“不,这种运气是不会有的,”罗斯托夫这样想,“得付出多少代价!这种运气是不会有的!无论是打牌,抑或是作战,我总是处处倒霉。”奥斯特利茨和多洛霍夫鲜明地而又匆匆地在他想象中交替地闪现。“只希望在该生能有一回捕获到一头大狼,我再没有更大的欲望了!”他想道,一面注意听,一面注意看,开头向左边,后来又向右边张望,同时倾听追逐野兽的声音的各种细微差别。他又向右边望望,而且望见有一样东西沿着荒漠的田野向他迎面跑来。“不,这不可能!”罗斯托夫想了想,深深地叹气,就像某人在完成他长久期待的事情似的。最大的幸福实现了——而且是那么简单,无声无色、毫无颂扬地实现了。罗斯托夫不相信自己的眼睛,这种疑心延续了一秒多钟。这只狼向前跑着,跑着,吃力地跳过了路上的车辙。这是一只老狼,背部斑白,吃大了的肚子有点发红。它从容不迫地跑着,很明显,它坚信没有人会看见它。罗斯托夫屏息地望望猎犬。它们有的躺着,有的站着,没有看见豺狼,什么也不明白。老卡拉伊转过头来,呲起发黄的牙凿,生气地找它身上的跳蚤,咬它自己的后腿。

“我来呼唤猎犬抓住野兽,”罗斯托夫噘着嘴唇,用耳语说。猎犬都抖抖铁链,跳起来,竖起耳朵听。卡拉伊搔搔后腿,站起来,竖起耳朵听,轻轻地摆动一下那垂挂着的像毡子一样的尾巴。

“放?还是不放?”当豺狼离开森林向他面前跑来的时候,尼古拉自言自语地说。忽然狼的脸色全变了,它看见一双大概从未见过的朝它凝视的人的眼睛后,哆嗦了一下,向猎人微微地转过头来,停步了。“向后转或是向前走呢?哎!反正一样,向前走!……”显然它好像自言自语地说了一句,向前冲去,它不再回顾,迈着轻盈、疏阔、不受拘束,但很坚定的步子,跳过来了。

“我来呼唤猎犬抓野兽!”尼古拉怪声喊道,他那匹骏马独自向山下拼命地跑去,越过一个又一个水坑,拦截那只狼,几只猎犬赶过了骏马,更迅速地疾跑。尼古拉即未听见自己的喊声,亦未感觉到他在疾驰,他既未看见猎犬,亦未看见他疾驰而过的地面,他只望见那只狼,它加快跑的速度,不改变方向,沿着凹地迅跑着。头一个在那野兽近旁出现的是叫做米尔卡的黑毛白花、臀部宽大的猎犬,它渐渐接近那只野兽,更加接近了,更加接近了……瞧,它追上野兽了。可是这只狼稍微斜着眼睛看看它,米尔卡并不像平时那样加一把力气,而是忽然翘起尾巴,用两只前脚支撑在地上,站住了。

“抓住那只野兽!”尼古拉喊道。

红毛柳比姆从米尔卡后面跳出来,动作迅速地向狼扑去,咬住它的大腿(后腿),但在这一瞬间,它却惊惶地跳到旁边去。那只狼蹲了下来,牙齿碰得磕磕响,又站起来,向前跑去,所有的猎犬和豺狼相距一俄尺,跟在后面跑。

“它跑掉啦!不,这不可能。”他一面想道,一面用嘶哑的嗓音继续喊叫。

“卡拉伊!抓住它!……”他用眼睛寻找那只老公犬时大声喊道,它是他的唯一的希望。卡拉伊豁出了它这只老狗的全身力气,尽可能挺直身子,不住地盯着那只狼,很费力地窜到狼的侧边,截断它的去路。但是豺狼跳得快,猎犬跳得慢,这样看来,卡拉伊是打错了算盘。尼古拉从自己前面不远的地方看见了那座森林,那只狼一跑到那里,就会溜走的。几只猎犬和那个几乎迎面驰来的猎人在前面出现了。还有一线希望。一只来自他群的、尼古拉认不得的长身量的黑褐色的小公犬,从前面飞也似的窜到狼跟前,几乎把它撞翻了。那只狼出乎意料疾速地抬起身子,向黑褐色的公犬扑过去,咬了它一口,牙齿碰得磕磕地响了一下,公犬的肋部给狼撕开了,身上鲜血淋漓,发出尖声的惨叫,倒了下来,将头埋入土里了。

“卡拉尤什卡(卡拉伊的爱称)!我的爷!”尼古拉哭着说。

老公犬的腿上的毛纠结成团了,多亏那只狼已经停步了,老公犬便去拦截它的去路,已经走到离它五步远的地方。狼好像预感到会发生危险,斜着眼睛看看卡拉伊,把尾巴藏在两腿中间,藏得更深了,接着它加快速度跳开了。但在这时候,尼古拉只见卡拉伊采取了行动,——它霎时扑在狼身上,和狼一起倒裁葱似的滚进了它们前面的水坑。

尼古拉看见那几只在水坑中与豺狼搏斗的猎犬,它们的身子下边露出了豺狼原灰毛,它那条伸得笔直的后腿,它抿着两耳,喘不过气来,显现出惶恐的样子(卡拉伊掐着它的喉咙),就在这个时刻,尼古拉看见这一情景的那个时刻,是他一生中的最幸福的时刻。他已经扶着鞍桥,要下马刺杀这只豺狼,忽然野兽从这群猎犬中间探出头来,接着它伸出两只间脚,踩在坑沿上。豺狼的牙齿咯咯地响(卡拉伊没有去掐它的喉咙),它用后脚一蹬,跳出了水坑,夹起尾巴,又复挣脱了猎犬,向前走去。卡拉伊竖起背上的毛,大概是碰伤或是被咬伤,费很大力气才从水坑中爬出来。

“我的天!为了什么?……”尼古拉绝望地喊道。

大叔的猎人从另一边疾驰而来,截断豺狼的去路,他的几只猎犬又把野兽拦住了。又把它包围起来。

尼古拉、他的马夫、大叔和他的猎人围绕野兽打转转,大声呼喊,命令猎犬抓野兽,每当那只豺狼向后蹲下来,他们就准备下马,每当那只豺狼抖擞精神,向那想必能够救它一命的森林走去的时候,他们就立刻向前驰去。

还在追捕野兽开始的时候,丹尼洛就听见纵犬捉住野兽的喊声,他一个箭步跳到林边去了。他看见卡拉伊捉住豺狼,就把马儿勒住,以为猎事已经结束了。但当几个猎人还没有下马,那只豺狼抖擞精神,又在逃走的时候,丹尼洛便驱使他的栗色大马,不是向豺狼,而是迳直地向森林驰去,正如卡拉伊那样,截断野兽的去路。多亏这个方向对头,所以,当大叔的几只猎犬第二次拦住野兽的时候,他才骑着马儿驰到那只狼面前。

丹尼洛默不作声地疾驰,左手中持着一柄拔出的短剑,像用连枷打谷似的用那条短柄长鞭抽打着栗色大马的收缩进去的两肋。

一直到栗色大马在尼古拉身旁费力地喘气的时候,他才看见和听见丹尼洛,还听见身体倒下去的响声并且看见丹尼洛在猎犬中间趴在狼的屁股上,竭尽全力地揪狼的耳朵。很明显,无论对猎犬来说,对猎人来说,抑或对豺狼来说,现在一切都宣告结束。野兽惊恐地抿着耳朵,想方设法站起来,但是猎犬把它团团围住了。丹尼洛欠一欠身子,向前走一步,仿佛躺下来休息似的,他把整个沉重的身躯压在狼身上,同时用手一把抓住它的耳朵。尼古拉想刺杀它,但是丹尼洛用耳语说:“用不着,我们把它捆住吧。”他改变姿势,用只脚踩在狼颈上。他们把一根棍子塞在狼嘴里,把它捆住,仿佛给它加上了皮带般的勒口,之后便缚住它的两条腿,丹尼洛约莫两次拽着它滚过来,滚过去。

他们流露着幸运而疲惫的脸色,把那只被活捉的大狼放到喷着响鼻、使人吃惊的马背上,许多只对它汪汪叫的猎犬伴随着它,把它运送到大家约定集合的地方。猎犬捉住两只小狼,灵狸捉住三只小狼。猎人们带着他们自己的猎物和故事聚集在一起,他们都走过去观看那只大狼,它低垂着它那前额宽大的脑袋,嘴里叼着一根棍子,用一对玻璃似的大眼睛注视着这群把它围住的猎犬和人。在众人碰碰它时,它那被捆着的两腿不住地颤抖,它惊恐而且随便地瞧着众人。伯爵伊利亚·安德烈伊奇也骑马走来,碰碰这只狼。

“哦!多么大的狼啊,”他说道,“大狼啊,是吗?”他问站在他身旁的丹尼洛。

“大人,这是一只大狼。”丹尼洛连忙脱下帽子,回答。

伯爵想起了他放走的这只狼和为此事曾与丹尼洛发生冲突的情景。

“老弟,不过你生气了。”伯爵说,丹尼洛什么话也没有说,只是羞怯地流露出天真、温顺而愉快的微笑。



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