THE DECREPIT OLD MAN, Kutuzov, had bade them wake him early next day, and in the early morning he said his prayers, dressed, and with a disagreeable consciousness that he had to command in a battle of which he did not approve, he got into his carriage and drove from Letashevka, five versts behind Tarutino, to the place where the attacking columns were to be gathered together. Kutuzov drove along, dropping asleep and waking up again, and listening to hear whether that were the sound of shots on the right, whether the action had not begun. But everything was still quiet. A damp and cloudy autumn day was dawning. As he approached Tarutino, Kutuzov noticed cavalry soldiers leading their horses to a watercourse across the road along which he was riding. Kutuzov looked at them, stopped his carriage, and asked what regiment did they belong to. They belonged to a column which was to have been far away in front in ambush.

“A mistake, perhaps,” thought the old commander-in-chief. But as he drove on further, Kutuzov saw infantry regiments with their arms stacked, and the soldiers in their drawers busy cooking porridge and fetching wood. He sent for their officer. The officer submitted that no command to advance had been given.

“No command …” Kutuzov began, but he checked himself at once, and ordered the senior officer to be summoned to him. Getting out of the carriage, with drooping head he walked to and fro in silence, breathing heavily. When the general staff officer, Eichen, for whom he had sent, arrived, Kutuzov turned purple with rage, not because that officer was to blame for the mistake, but because he was an object of sufficient importance for him to vent his wrath on. And staggering and gasping, the old man fell into that state of fury in which he would sometimes roll on the ground in frenzy, and flew at Eichen, shaking his fists, and shouting abuse in the language of the gutter. Another officer, Captain Brozin, who was in no way to blame, happening to appear, suffered the same fate.

“What will the blackguards do next? Shoot them! The scoundrels!” he shouted hoarsely, shaking his fist and staggering. He was in a state of actual physical suffering. He, his highness the commander-in-chief, who was assured by every one that no one in Russia had ever had such power as he, he put into this position—made a laughing-stock to the whole army. “Worrying myself, praying over to-day, not sleeping all night, and thinking about everything—all for nothing!” he thought about himself. “When I was a mere boy of an officer no one would have dared to make a laughing-stock of me like this … And now!” He was in a state of physical suffering, as though from corporal punishment, and could not help expressing it in wrathful and agonised outcries. But soon his strength was exhausted, and looking about him, feeling that he had said a great deal that was unjust, he got into his carriage and drove back in silence.

His wrath once spent did not return again, and Kutuzov, blinking feebly, listened to explanations and self-justifications (Yermolov himself did not put in an appearance till next day), and to the earnest representation of Bennigsen, Konovnitsyn, and Toll that the battle that had not come off should take place on the following day. And again Kutuzov had to acquiesce.

第二天清晨，衰老的库图佐夫起床后，做了祈祷，穿上衣服，怀着他必须指挥一场他并不赞成的战斗的不愉快的心情，坐上马车，从列塔舍夫卡（离塔鲁丁诺五俄里）出发去担任进攻的各纵队集合的地点。库图佐夫坐在马车里睡睡醒醒，醒醒睡睡，倾听着右方有没有枪声，战斗开始了没有？然而，四周一片寂静。只有潮湿而阴郁的秋天初露的晨光。当走近塔鲁丁诺时，库图佐夫看见在他经过的路上，有骑兵牵着马去饮水。库图佐夫仔细看了看他们，停住马车，询问他们属于哪一个团队。那些骑兵所在的纵队本来早就应当到很远的前方某地去埋伏。“错了，可能弄错了。”老总司令想到。然而再往前走一段，库图佐夫看见步兵团队的士兵们都架起了枪，只穿着衬裤，有的在喝粥，有的在抱柴。叫来一位军官，这位军官报告说，没有任何进攻的命令。

“怎么没有……”库图佐夫刚一开头，就立刻按捺住自己，派人去找一位级别高的军官来见他。他走下马车，低着头，沉重地喘着气，来回不停地走动，一言不发地等候着。当被叫来的总参谋部的军官艾兴一到，库图佐夫的脸被气得发紫，这并不是因为这个军官犯了什么错误，只是因为他是他发泄怒气的一个够格的对象。于是，老人气得浑身发抖，喘息着，已经处在疯狂状态，在他气得在地上打滚的时候，总是这种样子，他向艾兴进攻了，挥舞着双手威吓他，喊叫着，用最粗鄙的话骂他。另一个碰巧闯来的布罗津上尉，这个无辜者也遭受到同样地命运。

“你这个混蛋怎么这么坏？枪毙你！坏蛋！”他挥动双臂，身子摇摇晃晃，用嘶哑的声音喊叫着。他感受到生理上的痛楚。他，总司令，阁下大人，所有的人都说，在俄国还从来没有任何一个人在任何时候拥有他所拥有的权力，他如今被弄到这种地步——在全军面前闹了个大笑话。“我白白忙着为今天祈祷上帝，白白熬个通宵，白白费脑筋考虑各种事情！”他在心里想道。“当我还是一个小小的军官的时候，也从来没有人敢这样来取笑我……可是如今！”他好像遭到鞭打一样感到生理上的痛楚，他不能不用愤怒和痛苦的喊叫来加以发泄；但是他很快就泄了劲，他向四下里看了看，觉得自己刚才说了许多难听的话，他坐上马车，默默地回去了。

他的怒气一经发完，就不再发怒了，库图佐夫无精打采地眨着眼听那些辩解和袒护的话（叶尔莫洛夫本人第二天才来见他），听贝尼格森·科诺夫尼岑和托尔提出的那个流产了的行动推迟到第二天进行的坚决要求，而库图佐夫又不得不同意了。