IT was a warm, rainy, autumn day. The sky and the horizon were all of the uniform tint of muddy water. Sometimes a mist seemed to be falling, and sometimes there was a sudden downpour of heavy, slanting rain.
Denisov, in a long cape and a high fur cap, both streaming with water, was riding a thin, pinched-looking, thoroughbred horse. With his head aslant, and his ears pricked up, like his horse, he was frowning at the driving rain, and anxiously looking before him. His face, which had grown thin, and was covered with a thick, short, black heard, looked wrathful.
Beside Denisov, wearing also a long cape and a high cap, and mounted on a sleek, sturdy Don horse, rode the esaul, or hetman of the Cossacks—Denisov's partner in his enterprises.
The esaul, Lovaisky the Third, also in a cape, and a high cap, was a long creature, flat as a board, with a pale face, flaxen hair, narrow, light eyes, and an expression of calm self-confidence both in his face and his attitude. Though it was impossible to say what constituted the peculiarity of horse and rider, at the first glance at the esaul and at Denisov, it was evident that Denisov was both wet and uncomfortable; that Denisov was a man sitting on a horse; while the esaul seemed as comfortable and calm as always, and seemed not a man sitting on a horse, but a man forming one whole with a horse—a single being enlarged by the strength of two.
A little ahead of them walked a peasant-guide, soaked through and through in his grey full coat and white cap.
A little behind, on a thin, delicate Kirghiz pony with a flowing tail and mane, and a mouth flecked with blood, rode a young officer in a blue French military coat. Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform and blue cap, perched upon his horse behind him. The boy held on to the hussar with hands red with cold, and kept moving his bare feet, trying to warm them, and lifting his eyebrows, gazed about him wonderingly. This was the French drummer, who had been taken in the morning.
Along the narrow, muddy, cut-up forest-track there came hussars in knots of three and four at a time, and then Cossacks; some in capes, some in French cloaks; others with horse-cloths pulled over their heads. The horses, chestnut and bay, all looked black from the soaking rain. Their necks looked strangely thin with their drenched manes, and steam rose in clouds from them. Clothes, saddles, and bridles, all were sticky and swollen with the wet, like the earth and the fallen leaves with which the track was strewn. The men sat huddled up, trying not to move, so as to keep warm the water that had already reached their skins, and not to let any fresh stream of cold rain trickle in anywhere under their seat, or at their knees or necks. In the midst of the file of Cossacks two waggons, drawn by French horses, and Cossack saddle-horses hitched on in front, rumbled over stumps and branches, and splashed through the ruts full of water.
Denisov's horse, in avoiding a puddle in the track, knocked his rider's knee against a tree.
“Ah, devil!” Denisov cried angrily; and showing his teeth, he struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and his comrades with mud. Denisov was out of humour, both from the rain and hunger (no one had eaten anything since morning); and, most of all, from having no news of Dolohov, and from no French prisoner having been caught to give him information.
“We shall never have such another chance to fall on the transport as to-day. To attack them alone would be risky, and to put it off to another day—some one of the bigger leaders will carry the booty off from under our noses,” thought Denisov, continually looking ahead, and fancying he saw the messenger from Dolohov he expected.
Coming out into a clearing from which he could get a view to some distance on the right, Denisov stopped.
“There's some one coming,” he said.
The esaul looked in the direction Denisov was pointing to.
“There are two men coming—an officer and a Cossack. Only I wouldn't be prepositive that is the colonel himself,” said the esaul, who loved to use words that were unfamiliar to the Cossacks. The two figures, riding downhill, disappeared from sight, and came into view again a few minutes later. The foremost was an officer, dishevelled looking, and soaked through, with his trousers tucked up above his knees; he was lashing his horse into a weary gallop. Behind him a Cossack trotted along, standing up in his stirrups. This officer, a quite young boy, with a broad, rosy face and keen, merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov, and handed him a sopping packet.
“From the general,” he said. “I must apologise for its not being quite dry.…”
Denisov, frowning, took the packet and broke it open.
“Why, they kept telling us it was so dangerous,” said the officer, turning to the esaul while Denisov was reading the letter. “But Komarov”— and he indicated the Cossack—“and I were prepared. We have both two pisto … But what's this?” he asked, seeing the French drummer-boy. “A prisoner? You have had a battle already? May I talk to him?”
“Rostov! Petya!” Denisov cried at that moment, running through the packet that had been given him. “Why, how was it you didn't say who you were?” and Denisov, turning with a smile, held out his hand to the officer. This officer was Petya Rostov.
Petya had been all the way preparing himself to behave with Denisov as a grown-up person and an officer should do, making no reference to their previous acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him, Petya beamed at once, blushed with delight, and forgetting all the formal demeanour he had been intending to preserve, he began telling him how he had ridden by the French, and how glad he was he had been given this commission, and how he had already been in a battle at Vyazma, and how a certain hussar had distinguished himself in it.
“Well, I am glad to see you,” Denisov interrupted him, and his face looked anxious again.
“Mihail Feoklititch,” he said to the esaul, “this is from the German again, you know. He” (Petya) “is in his suite.” And Denisov told the esaul that the letter, which had just been brought, repeated the German general's request that they would join him in attacking the transport. “If we don't catch them by to-morrow, he'll snatch them from under our noses,” he concluded.
While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya, disconcerted by Denisov's cold tone, and imagining that that tone might be due to the condition of his trousers, furtively pulled them down under his cloak, trying to do so unobserved, and to maintain as martial an air as possible.
“Will your honour have any instructions to give me?” he said to Denisov, putting his hand to the peak of his cap, and going back to the comedy of adjutant and general, which he had prepared himself to perform, “or should I remain with your honour?”
“Instructions? …” said Denisov absently. “Well, can you stay till tomorrow?”
“Oh, please … May I stay with you?” cried Petya.
“Well, what were your instructions from your general—to go back at once?” asked Denisov.
Petya blushed.
“Oh, he gave me no instructions. I think I may?” he said interrogatively.
“All right, then,” said Denisov. And turning to his followers, he directed a party of them to go to the hut in the wood, which they had fixed on as a resting-place, and the officer on the Kirghiz horse (this officer performed the duties of an adjutant) to go and look for Dolohov, to find out where he was, and whether he were coming in the evening.
Denisov himself, with the esaul and Petya, intended to ride to the edge of the wood near Shamshevo to have a look at the position of the French, where their attack next day was to take place.
“Come, my man,” he said to their peasant guide, “take us to Shamshevo.”
Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by a few Cossacks and the hussar with the prisoner, turned to the left and crossed a ravine towards the edge of the wood.
这是一个温暖多雨的秋日。头顶上和一眼望不到尽头的天边，都是一片混沌。一忽儿像是下大雾，突然间又下起倾盆大雨。
杰尼索夫骑在一匹精瘦、两肋下陷的良种马上，雨水从他戴的羊皮帽和披的毡斗篷上流淌下来。他和他的马一样，歪着头，抿着耳朵，被瓢泼大雨打得皱起眉头，急切地注视着前方。他那长满又短又黑的浓须的瘦削的面庞，显露出满面怒容。
杰尼索夫身旁是哥萨克一等上尉——杰尼索夫的助手，他也戴着羊皮帽，披着毡斗篷，骑的是一匹硕壮的顿河马。
第三个是一等上尉洛瓦伊斯基，他也戴皮帽，着毡斗篷，身材修长，身子像一块平板似的平平整整，面孔白皙，头发淡黄，眼睛细而明亮，脸上的表情和骑马的姿势一样安详，表现得怡然自得。虽然说不出马和骑马的人有什么特点，但是只要看一眼哥萨克一等上尉和杰尼索夫这两个人，就可以看出，杰尼索夫浑身湿漉漉，样子怪别扭的，他只是一个骑在马背上的人，再瞧一下那个哥萨克一等上尉，他像平时一样安详、镇定自若，好像他不是一个骑在马背上的人，而是人和马融成一体，是一种力量倍增的典型。
在他们稍前一点的地方，走着一个头戴白色小帽，身着灰色长衫的浑身湿透了的农民向导。
在他们身后，一个着藏青色法国军大衣的军官骑着一匹瘦小的、尾巴和鬃毛很长、嘴唇磨出了血的吉尔吉斯马。
和他们并排行进的是一个骠骑兵，坐在骠骑兵身后的是一个穿着破烂的法国军装，头戴蓝色小帽的少年。这个少年用冻得通红的双手抓住骠骑兵，不停地搓动手脚取暖，他惊恐地四下张望，这就是早晨俘虏的法国小鼓手。
在后面，沿着狭窄的、泡着水的泥泞的林间小道，三三两两地行走着骠骑兵、再后面是哥萨克们，有的披着毡斗篷，有的穿着法国军大衣，有的头上顶着马被。那些马，不论是栗色的还是火红色的，因为被雨淋湿，都变成乌黑色的了。那些马脖子上的鬃毛被淋湿而粘在一起，马脖子变得很细。马的身上蒸发着热气。衣服、马鞍、缰绳——全都被大雨淋得透湿而变得滑溜溜的，地上和落叶也是如此。人们缩着颈项骑在马背上，尽可能纹丝不动，使自己身上暖和一点，同时不再让水流到坐鞍下面，不再从两膝和脖子后面流进体内。在拉得很长的哥萨克队伍中间，有两辆套着法国马和带马鞍的哥萨克马的大车在树桩和枯枝上颠簸着，车辙积满了水，大车发出扑哧扑哧的声响。
杰尼索夫的坐骑为了绕过一个水洼，向旁边一拐，他的膝盖碰在一棵树上。
“唉，活见鬼！”杰尼索夫恶狠狠地咒骂了一句，他咬着牙，接连抽了三四下鞭子，溅了自己和同伴们一身的泥。杰尼索夫心情不好；由于雨也由于饿（从早晨起谁也没有吃过东西），更主要的，是由于到现在还没有多洛霍夫的消息，而派去捉“舌头”的人也还没有回来。
“很难再会有像今天这样的偷袭机会了。要自己单独去干，又太危险，如果推延到第二天，那又会让某一个大游击队从自己鼻子底下把即将到手的战利品抢走。”杰尼索夫一边想，一边不停地注视着前边，他切盼能见到多洛霍夫派来的人。
杰尼索夫拨转马头，在可以远眺右前方的地方，停了下来。
“有个骑马的人。”他说。
哥萨克一等上尉朝杰尼索夫所指的方向望去。
“有两个骑马的人——一个军官，一个哥萨克。但是难以肯定是少校本人。”哥萨克一等上尉说，他总爱用哥萨克们听不懂的词句。
两个骑马者驶下山坡就看不见了，过几分钟又出现了。前面那个军官被大雨淋得像落汤鸡一样，他把裤腿卷到膝盖以上，不住地挥动马鞭，抽打已十分疲乏的坐骑，疾驶而来。在他身后是一个哥萨克，他站在马镫子上，一溜小跑。这是一个年轻的军官，小伙子有一张宽阔、红润的脸庞，有一双愉快、灵活的眼睛，他驰近杰尼索夫，递上一封湿淋淋的信。
“将军送来的，”那个军官说，“请原谅，不很干……”
杰尼索夫皱着眉头，他接过信，立即拆开。
在杰尼索夫看信的时候，军官对一等上尉说“都说危险，危险，”他指了指那个哥萨克接着道，“其实，我和科马罗夫，都有准备，每人都有两支手枪……，这是什么人？”他看见那个法国小鼓手时，问道，“是俘虏？你们已经打了一仗了？我可以和他谈一下吗？”
“罗斯托夫！彼佳！”杰尼索夫匆忙看过信，大声叫道“你怎么不早点说你是谁？”杰尼索夫含笑转向那个军官并把手伸了过去。
这个军官是彼佳·罗斯托夫。
彼佳一路上都在琢磨，在见到杰尼索夫时，怎样才能使自己像一个大人，像一个军官的样子，同时还要不露出过去曾经相识。但当杰尼索夫对他一笑，彼佳立刻欣喜得涨红了脸，精神焕发，把准备好的摆出一付军官的架子忘得一干二净，他开始讲述，他怎样从法国人旁边走过，他在接受任务时是如何高兴，他参加了那次维亚济马战斗，并且立了战功。
“好，我见到你很高兴。”杰尼索夫打断了他的话，脸上又显露出焦虑。
“米哈依尔·费奥克利特奇，”他对哥萨克一等上尉说，“这又是那个德国人送来的。他（指的是彼佳）是他的部下。”杰尼索夫向哥萨克一等上尉讲述了刚才收到的信的内容：那个德国将军再一次提出联合袭击运输队的要求。“如果我们明天不把它拿下来，他就会在我们的鼻子底下抢夺过去。”他肯定地说。
在杰尼索夫和哥萨克一等上尉说话的时候，彼佳由于杰尼索夫的冷漠腔调而感到难堪，他以为是因为他军容不整，他便悄悄地从大衣底下整理了一下卷上去的裤腿，竭力保持一个军人的姿式。
“阁下有什么指示？”他对杰尼索夫说，行了一个举手礼，又试图做出原先准备好的，要作出像一个副官见到将军的样子，“我是不是应当留在阁下这里？”
“指示？……”杰尼索夫若有所思地说，“你能留到明天吗？”
“是，听从吩咐……我可以留在您的部下喽？”彼佳大声说。
“可是将军究竟是怎样吩咐你的——立即返回吧？”杰尼索夫问道。彼佳脸红了。
“他什么也没吩咐。我想，是可以的吧？——”他带着询问的口气说。
“那好吧。”杰尼索夫说。接着他就作出如下部署：派一队到林中小屋歇营地；派那个骑吉尔吉斯马的军官（他履行副官职务，去寻找多洛霍夫，弄清楚他现在何处，能否在当晚赶到；杰尼索夫本人带领哥萨克一等上尉和彼佳到靠近沙姆舍沃村的森林的边缘，以便侦察清楚，明天怎样从那里去袭击法军驻地。
“喂，胡子。”他对那个农民向导说，“带我们去沙姆舍沃。”
杰尼索夫、彼佳和哥萨克一等上尉，还有几个跟随的哥萨克和一个押着俘虏的骠骑兵，一行人马向左拐过一道山沟，向森林边缘行进。
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