PETYA AND DOLOHOV, after dressing up in French uniforms and shakoes, rode to the clearing from which Denisov had looked at the French camp, and coming out of the wood, descended into the hollow in the pitch darkness. When they had ridden downhill, Dolohov bade the Cossacks accompanying him to wait there, and set off at a smart trot along the road towards the bridge. Petya, faint with excitement, trotted along beside him.
“If we are caught, I won't be taken alive. I have a pistol,” whispered Petya.
“Don't speak Russian,” said Dolohov, in a rapid whisper, and at that moment they heard in the dark the challenge: “Who goes there?” and the click of a gun.
The blood rushed into Petya's face, and he clutched at his pistol.
“Uhlans of the Sixth Regiment,” said Dolohov, neither hastening nor slackening his horse's pace.
The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge.
“The password?”
Dolohov reined in his horse, and advanced at a walking pace.
“Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?” he said.
“Password?” repeated the sentinel, making no reply and barring their way.
“When an officer makes his round, sentinels don't ask him for the password …” cried Dolohov, suddenly losing his temper and riding straight at the sentinel. “I ask you, is the colonel here?”
And not waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who moved aside, Dolohov rode at a walking pace uphill.
Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolohov stopped the man, and asked where the colonel and officers were. The man, a soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up to Dolohov's horse, stroking it with his hand, and told them in a simple and friendly way that the colonel and the officers were higher up the hill, on the right, in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the little manor-house.
After going further along the road, from both sides of which they heard French talk round the camp-fires, Dolohov turned into the yard of the manor-house. On reaching the gate, he dismounted and walked towards a big, blazing fire, round which several men were sitting, engaged in loud conversation. There was something boiling in a cauldron on one side, and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue coat, kneeling in the bright glow of the fire, was stirring it with his ramrod.
“He's a tough customer,” said one of the officers, sitting in the shadow on the opposite side of the fire.
“He'll make them run, the rabbits” (a French proverb), said the other, with a laugh.
Both paused, and peered into the darkness at the sound of the steps of Petya and Dolohov approaching with their horses.
“Bonjour, messieurs!” Dolohov called loudly and distinctly.
There was a stir among the officers in the shadow, and a tall officer with a long neck came round the fire and went up to Dolohov.
“Is that you, Clément?” said he. “Where the devil …” but becoming aware of his mistake, he did not finish, and with a slight frown greeted Dolohov as a stranger, and asked him what he could do for him. Dolohov told him that he and his comrade were trying to catch up with their regiment, and asked, addressing the company in general, whether the officers knew anything about the Sixth Regiment. No one could tell them anything about it; and Petya fancied the officers began to look at him and Dolohov with unfriendly and suspicious eyes.
For several seconds no one spoke.
“If you're reckoning on some soup, you have come too late,” said a voice from behind the fire, with a smothered laugh.
Dolohov answered that they had had supper, and wanted to push on further that night.
He gave their horses to the soldier who was stirring the pot, and squatted down on his heels beside the officer with the long neck. The latter never took his eyes off Dolohov, and asked him again what regiment did he belong to.
Dolohov appeared not to hear the question. Making no answer, he lighted a short French pipe that he took from his pocket, and asked the officers whether the road ahead of them were safe from Cossacks.
“The brigands are everywhere,” answered an officer from behind the fire.
Dolohov said that the Cossacks were only a danger for stragglers like himself and his comrade; “he supposed they would not dare to attack large detachments,” he added inquiringly.
No one replied.
“Well, now he will come away,” Petya was thinking every moment, as he stood by the fire listening to the talk.
But Dolohov took up the conversation that had dropped, and proceeded to ask them point-blank how many men there were in their battalion, how many battalions they had, and how many prisoners.
When he asked about the Russian prisoners, Dolohov added:
“Nasty business dragging those corpses about with one. It would be better to shoot the vermin,” and he broke into such a strange, loud laugh, that Petya fancied the French must see through their disguise at once, and he involuntarily stepped back from the fire.
Dolohov's words and laughter elicited no response, and a French officer whom they had not seen (he lay rolled up in a coat), sat up and whispered something to his companion. Dolohov stood up and called to the men, who held their horses.
“Will they give us the horses or not?” Petya wondered, unconsciously coming closer to Dolohov.
They did give them the horses. “Bonsoir, messieurs,” said Dolohov.
Petya tried to say “Bonsoir,” but he could not utter a sound. The officers were whispering together. Dolohov was a long while mounting his horse, who would not stand still; then he rode out of the gate at a walking pace. Petya rode beside him, not daring to look round, though he was longing to see whether the French were running after him or not.
When they came out on to the road, Dolohov did not turn back towards the open country, but rode further along it into the village.
At one spot he stood still, listening. “Do you hear?” he said. Petya recognised the sound of voices speaking Russian, and saw round the camp-fire the dark outlines of Russian prisoners. When they reached the bridge again, Petya and Dolohov passed the sentinel, who, without uttering a word, paced gloomily up and down. They came out to the hollow where the Cossacks were waiting for them.
“Well now, good-bye. Tell Denisov, at sunrise, at the first shot,” said Dolohov, and he was going on, but Petya clutched at his arm.
“Oh!” he cried, “you are a hero! Oh! how splendid it is! how jolly! How I love you!”
“That's all right,” answered Dolohov, but Petya did not let go of him, and in the dark Dolohov made out that he was bending over to him to be kissed. Dolohov kissed him, laughed, and turning his horse's head, vanished into the darkness.
彼佳和多洛霍夫穿上法国军大衣，戴上筒形军帽，朝着杰尼索夫观察敌军营地的林间空地驰去，天已完全黑下来，他们走出树林，来到洼地里。一到下面，多洛霍夫就吩咐跟随他的哥萨克在那里等候他们，然后顺着大路向桥头驰去。彼佳和他并骑而行，他激动得喘不过气来。
“如果落到敌人手中，我决不会让他们活捉去，我有枪。”
彼佳悄声说。
“不要说俄语，”多洛霍夫急速地附耳低语，就在此刻，黑暗中传来一声喝问：“Quivive？”①可以听见扳动枪栓的声音。
彼佳兴奋而又紧张，他握住自己的手枪。
“Lanciersdu6—me．”②多洛霍夫回答。他照常前行，既不加快也没放慢，可以看见桥上站岗的哨兵的黑影。
①法语：什么人？
②法语：第六团的枪骑兵。
“Motd'ordre？”①多洛霍夫勒马缓缓前行。
“Ditesdonc，lecolonelGérardestici？”②他说。
“Motd'ordre！”哨兵不回答，拦住他说。
“Quandunofficierfaitsaronde，lessentinellesnedeBmandentpaslemotd'ordre……”多洛霍夫突然发了火，策马向哨兵走去。“Jevousdemandesilecolonelestici？”③不等那个已经站开的哨兵回答，多洛霍夫策马向山坡上走去。
看见一个横越大路的黑影，多洛霍夫拦住那个人，问他司令官和军官们都在哪儿。那个大兵肩膀上扛了一条口袋，他停了下来，走到多洛霍夫马前，用手摸着马，简单并友善地说，司令官和军官们都在右边山坡上的农场里（他这样称呼地主的庄园）。
多洛霍夫沿大路往前走，从大路两侧的篝火堆那儿传来法国人的谈话声。多洛霍夫拐进地主庄园的院子里。进院门后，他下了马，走到一堆烧得正旺的火堆跟前，有几个人围坐着，正在大声谈话。火上吊一个军用饭盒在煮东西，一个头戴尖顶帽，身穿蓝大衣，被火光照得通体透亮的大兵跪在那儿，他用通枪的通条搅拌饭盒里的东西。
“Oh，c'estunduràcuire．”④坐在火对面稍暗中的一个军官说道。
①法语：口令？
②法语：喂，热拉尔团长在这儿吗？
③法语：官长在巡查，哨兵不问他口令。我问你团长在不在这儿？
④法语：你拿那小子没办法。
“Illesferamarcherleslapins…”①另一个军官大笑说。听见多洛霍夫和彼佳牵马走近火堆的脚步声，两个军官停住交谈，循声向暗中张望着。
“Bonjour，messieurs！”②多洛霍夫大声响亮地说。
大堆阴影处的军官动了一下，一个高个子、长颈项的军官绕过火堆，走到多洛霍夫面前。
“C'estvous，Clément？”他说，“D'oùdiable…”③他发觉认错了人，就没把话说完，他皱了皱眉头，就像对一个陌生人一样，问多洛霍夫，他有什么可以为他效力的。多洛霍夫说，他和同伴追赶自己的团队，他问在场的军官们，知不知道第六团的消息。他们谁都不知道；彼佳觉得那些军官怀有敌意和怀疑，注视了他和多洛霍夫。有数秒钟所有的人都一声不吭。
“Sivouscomptezsurlasoupedusoir，vousveneztroptard．”④火堆后面有一个人忍着笑说道。
①法语：他把他们吓了一大跳……
②法语：你们好，诸位！
③法语：是您啊，克莱芒？从哪来，鬼东西……
④法语：如果你们是来吃晚饭的，那你们就来晚了。
多洛霍夫说他们不饿，他们当晚还要赶路。
他把马交给那个搅和锅里煮的东西的大兵，然后在火堆边挨着那个长颈项军官蹲下身子。这位军官目不转睛地瞧着多洛霍夫，再次问地，是哪一个团的？多洛霍夫没有回答，好像不曾听到他的问话，他从衣袋里掏出法国烟斗，点着抽起烟来，他问那些军官，在他们往前去的路上怎样才能免遭哥萨克的袭击。
“Lesbrigandssontpartout．”①一个军官自火堆那边回答。
多洛霍夫说，只有对他和他的同伴这样掉了队的人，碰到哥萨克是很危险的，但是对大部队，哥萨克多半不敢袭击，他用试探的口气补上了这一句，然而，没有一个人答话。
“嗯，他大概要走了。”彼佳站在火堆旁边，听着他们谈话，不时地这么想。
但是多洛霍夫又提起那个中断了的话题，直截了当地问他们有几个营？每个营有多少人？有多少俘虏？在问及他们部队中的俄国俘虏时，多洛霍夫说：
“Lavilaineaffairedetrainercescadavresaprèssoi．Vaudraitmieuxfusillercettecanaille．”②一说完，他怪声怪气大笑起来。彼佳感到，骗局马上要被法国人识破，他不由得从火堆旁往后退了一步。对多洛霍夫的问话和他的怪笑，没有任何一个人作出反应，有一个未曾露面的法国军官（他裹着大衣躺在地上），欠起身子和旁边的同伴嘀咕了几句。
多洛霍夫站起来，叫那个牵马的大兵。
“他们会把马牵过来吗？”彼佳想，不由得靠近多洛霍夫。
马牵过来了。
“Bonjour，messieurs．”③多洛霍夫说。
彼佳想说，bonsoir④，但他说不出口。军官们在低声谈论着什么。多洛霍夫好一阵才跨上那匹不肯站稳当的马；然后缓缓驰出大门。彼佳和他并马而行，他很想看又不敢看军官们有没有追赶他们俩。
①法语：那些强盗遍地都是。
②法语：拖着这些死尸怪腻的，不如把这帮匪徒全枪毙了。
③法语：再见，诸位。
④法语：你们好。
来到大路上，多洛霍夫不从郊外回去，而是从村中穿过。
他在一处停了下来，侧耳倾听。
“你听到了吗？”他说。
彼佳听到了俄国人的谈话声音，看到了火堆旁边俄国俘虏里糊糊的身影。彼加和多洛霍夫下了山坡，径直往桥上走去，从哨兵身旁走过，那个哨兵一句话也没有说，愁眉苦脸地来回走动着；他们朝哥萨克在那里等候他们的洼地走去。
“好啦，再见吧。对杰尼索夫讲，天一亮就打响第一枪。”
多洛霍夫说完正要走，彼佳抓住了他。
“嘿！”他喊到，“您是一个了不起的英雄。咳，太好了！
太棒了！我十分敬爱您。”
“好啦，好啦！”多洛霍夫说，但是彼佳不放开他，多洛霍夫在黑暗中看见彼佳弯过身子想亲吻他，多洛霍夫吻了吻他，笑着拨转马头，消失在黑暗中。
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