Book 2 Chapter 2

“COMING!” the sentinel shouted at that moment. The general, turning red, ran to his horse, with trembling hands caught at the stirrup, swung himself up, settled himself in the saddle, drew out his sword, and with a pleased and resolute face opened his mouth on one side, in readiness to shout. The regiment fluttered all over, like a bird preening its wings, and subsided into stillness.

“Silence!” roared the general, in a soul-quaking voice, expressing at once gladness on his own account, severity as regards the regiment, and welcome as regards the approaching commander-in-chief.

A high, blue Vienna coach with several horses was driving at a smart trot, rumbling on its springs, along the broad unpaved high-road, with trees planted on each side of it. The general's suite and an escort of Croats galloped after the coach. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general in a white uniform, that looked strange among the black Russian ones. The coach drew up on reaching the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking of something in low voices, and Kutuzov smiled slightly as, treading heavily, he put his foot on the carriage step, exactly as though those two thousand men gazing breathlessly at him and at their general, did not exist at all.

The word of command rang out, again the regiment quivered with a clanking sound as it presented arms. In the deathly silence the weak voice of the commander-in-chief was audible. The regiment roared: “Good health to your Ex .. lency .. lency .. lency!” And again all was still. At first Kutuzov stood in one spot, while the regiment moved; then Kutuzov began walking on foot among the ranks, the white general beside him, followed by his suite.

From the way that the general in command of the regiment saluted the commander-in-chief, fixing his eyes intently on him, rigidly respectful and obsequious, from the way in which, craning forward, he followed the generals through the ranks, with an effort restraining his quivering strut, and darted up at every word and every gesture of the commander-in-chief,—it was evident that he performed his duties as a subordinate with even greater zest than his duties as a commanding officer. Thanks to the strictness and assiduity of its commander, the regiment was in excellent form as compared with the others that had arrived at Braunau at the same time. The sick and the stragglers left behind only numbered two hundred and seventeen, and everything was in good order except the soldiers' boots.

Kutuzov walked through the ranks, stopping now and then, and saying a few friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, and sometimes to the soldiers. Looking at their boots, he several times shook his head dejectedly, and pointed them out to the Austrian general with an expression as much as to say that he blamed no one for it, but he could not help seeing what a bad state of things it was. The general in command of the regiment, on every occasion such as this, ran forward, afraid of missing a single word the commander-in-chief might utter regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at such a distance that every word, even feebly articulated, could be heard, followed his suite, consisting of some twenty persons. These gentlemen were talking among themselves, and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a handsome adjutant. It was Prince Bolkonsky. Beside him was his comrade Nesvitsky, a tall staff-officer, excessively stout, with a good-natured, smiling, handsome face, and moist eyes. Nesvitsky could hardly suppress his mirth, which was excited by a swarthy officer of hussars walking near him. This officer, without a smile or a change in the expression of his fixed eyes, was staring with a serious face at the commanding officer's back, and mimicking every movement he made. Every time the commanding officer quivered and darted forward, the officer of hussars quivered and darted forward in precisely the same way. Nesvitsky laughed, and poked the others to make them look at the mimic.

Kutuzov walked slowly and listlessly by the thousands of eyes which were almost rolling out of their sockets in the effort to watch him. On reaching the third company, he suddenly stopped. The suite, not foreseeing this halt, could not help pressing up closer to him.

“Ah, Timohin!” said the commander-in-chief, recognising the captain with the red nose who had got into trouble over the blue overcoat.

One would have thought it impossible to stand more rigidly erect than Timohin had done when the general in command of the regiment had made his remarks to him; but at the instant when the commander-in-chief addressed him, the captain stood with such erect rigidity that it seemed that, were the commander-in-chief to remain for some time looking at him, the captain could hardly sustain the ordeal, and for that reason Kutuzov, realising his position, and wishing him nothing but good, hurriedly turned away. A scarcely perceptible smile passed over Kutuzov's podgy face, disfigured by the scar of a wound.

“Another old comrade at Ismail!” he said. “A gallant officer! Are you satisfied with him?” Kutuzov asked of the general in command.

And the general, all unconscious that he was being reflected as in a mirror in the officer of hussars behind him, quivered, pressed forward, and answered: “Fully, your most high excellency.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” said Kutuzov, smiling and walking away from him. “He had a predilection for Bacchus.”

The general in command was afraid that he might be to blame for this, and made no answer. The officer of hussars at that instant noticed the face of the captain with the red nose, and the rigidly drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his face and attitude in such a life-like manner that Nesvitsky could not restrain his laughter. Kutuzov turned round. The officer could apparently do anything he liked with his face; at the instant Kutuzov turned round, the officer had time to get in a grimace before assuming the most serious, respectful, and innocent expression.

The third company was the last, and Kutuzov seemed pondering, as though trying to recall something. Prince Andrey stepped forward and said softly in French: “You told me to remind you of the degraded officer, Dolohov, serving in the ranks in this regiment.”

“Where is Dolohov?” asked Kutuzov.

Dolohov, attired by now in the grey overcoat of a private soldier, did not wait to be called up. The slender figure of the fair-haired soldier, with his bright blue eyes, stepped out of the line. He went up to the commander-in-chief and presented arms.

“A complaint to make?” Kutuzov asked with a slight frown.

“This is Dolohov,” said Prince Andrey.

“Ah!” said Kutuzov. “I hope this will be a lesson to you, do your duty thoroughly. The Emperor is gracious. And I shall not forget you, if you deserve it.”

The bright blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief just as impudently as at the general of his regiment, as though by his expression tearing down the veil of convention that removed the commander-in-chief so far from the soldier.

“The only favour I beg of your most high excellency,” he said in his firm, ringing, deliberate voice, “is to give me a chance to atone for my offence, and to prove my devotion to his majesty the Emperor, and to Russia.”

Kutuzov turned away. There was a gleam in his eyes of the same smile with which he had turned away from Captain Timohin. He turned away and frowned, as though to express that all Dolohov had said to him and all he could say, he had known long, long ago, that he was sick to death long ago of it, and that it was not at all what was wanted. He turned away and went towards the coach.

The regiment broke into companies and went towards the quarters assigned them at no great distance from Braunau, where they hoped to find boots and clothes, and to rest after their hard marches.

“You won't bear me a grudge, Proho Ignatitch?” said the commanding general, overtaking the third company and riding up to Captain Timohin, who was walking in front of it. The general's face beamed with a delight he could not suppress after the successful inspection. “It's in the Tsar's service … can't be helped … sometimes one has to be a little sharp at inspection. I'm the first to apologise; you know me.… He was very much pleased.” And he held out his hand to the captain.

“Upon my word, general, as if I'd make so bold,” answered the captain, his nose flushing redder. He smiled, and his smile revealed the loss of two front teeth, knocked out by the butt-end of a gun at Ismail.

“And tell Dolohov that I won't forget him; he can be easy about that. And tell me, please, what about him, how's he behaving himself … I've been meaning to inquire…”

“He's very exact in the discharge of his duties, your excellency … but he's a character …” said Timohin.

“Why, what sort of a character?” asked the general.

“It's different on different days, your excellency,” said the captain; “at one time he's sensible and well-educated and good-natured. And then he'll be like a wild beast. In Poland, he all but killed a Jew, if you please.…”

“Well, well,” said the general, “still one must feel for a young man in trouble. He has great connections, you know.… So you …”

“Oh, yes, your excellency,” said Timohin, with a smile that showed he understood his superior officer's wish in the matter.

“Very well, then, very well.”

The general sought out Dolohov in the ranks and pulled up his horse.

“In the first action you may win your epaulettes,” he said to him.

Dolohov looked round and said nothing. There was no change in the lines of his ironically-smiling mouth.

“Well, that's all right then,” the general went on. “A glass of brandy to every man from me,” he added, so that the soldiers could hear. “I thank you all. God be praised!” And riding round the company, he galloped off to another.

“Well, he's really a good fellow, one can get on very well under him,” said Timohin to the subaltern officer walking beside him.

“The king of hearts, that's the only word for him,” the subaltern said, laughing. (The general was nicknamed the king of hearts.)

The cheerful state of mind of the officers after the inspection was shared by the soldiers. The companies went along merrily. Soldiers' voices could be heard on all sides chatting away.

“Why, don't they say Kutuzov's blind in one eye?”

“To be sure he is. Quite blind of one eye.”

“Nay … lads, he's more sharp-eyed than you are. See how he looked at our boots and things.” …

“I say, mate, when he looked at my legs … well, thinks I …”

“And the other was an Austrian with him, that looked as if he'd been chalked all over. As white as flour. I bet they rub him up as we rub up our guns.”

“I say, Fedeshou … did he say anything as to when the battles are going to begin? You stood nearer. They did say Bonaparte himself was in Brunovo.”

“Bonaparte! What nonsense the fellow talks! What won't you know next! Now it's the Prussian that's revolting. The Austrian, do you see, is pacifying him. When he's quiet, then the war will begin with Bonaparte. And he talks of Bonaparte's being in Brunovo! It's plain the fellow's a fool. You'd better keep your ears open.”

“Those devils of quartermasters! … The fifth company's turned into the village by now, and they're cooking their porridge, and we're not there yet.”

“Give us a biscuit, old man.”

“And did you give me tobacco yesterday? All right, my lad. Well, well, God be with you.”

“They might have made a halt, or we'll have to do another four miles with nothing to eat.”

“I say, it was fine how those Germans gave us carriages. One drove along, something like.”

“But here, lads, the folks are regularly stripped bare. There it was all Poles of some sort, all under the Russian crown, but now we've come to the regular Germans, my boy.”

“Singers to the front,” the captain called. And from the different ranks about twenty men advanced to the front. The drummer, who was their leader, turned round facing the chorus and waving his arm, struck up a soldier's song, beginning: “The sun was scarcely dawning,” and ending with the words: “So, lads, we'll march to glory with Father Kamensky.” … This song had been composed in Turkey, and now was sung in Austria, the only change being the substitution of the words “Father Kutuzov” for “Father Kamensky.”

Jerking out the last words in soldierly fashion and waving his arms, as though he were flinging something on the ground, the drummer, a lean, handsome soldier of forty, looked sternly at the soldier-chorus and frowned. Then, having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed upon him, he gesticulated, as though he were carefully lifting some unseen precious object over his head in both hands, holding it there some seconds, and all at once with a desperate movement flinging it away.

“Ah, the threshold of my cottage,
My new cottage.”
Here twenty voices caught up the refrain, and the castanet player, in spite of the weight of his weapon and knapsack, bounded nimbly forward, and walked backwards facing the company, shaking his shoulders, and seeming to menace some one with the castanets. The soldiers stepped out in time to the song, swinging their arms and unconsciously falling into step. Behind the company came the sound of wheels, the rumble of springs, and the tramp of horses. Kutuzov and his suite were going back to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign for the soldiers to go on freely, and he and all his suite looked as though they took pleasure in the sound of the singing, and the spectacle of the dancing soldier and the gaily, smartly marching men. In the second row from the right flank, beside which the carriage passed, they could not help noticing the blue-eyed soldier, Dolohov, who marched with a special jauntiness and grace in time to the song, and looked at the faces of the persons driving by with an expression that seemed to pity every one who was not at that moment marching in the ranks. The cornet of hussars, the officer of Kutuzov's suite, who had mimicked the general, fell back from the carriage and rode up to Dolohov.

The cornet of hussars, Zherkov, had at one time belonged to the fast set in Petersburg, of which Dolohov had been the leader. Zherkov had met Dolohov abroad as a common soldier, and had not seen fit to recognise him. But now, after Kutuzov's conversation with the degraded officer, he addressed him with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Friend of my heart, how are you?” he said, through the singing, making his horse keep pace with the marching soldiers.

“How am I?” Dolohov answered coldly. “As you see.” The lively song gave a peculiar flavour to the tone of free-and-easy gaiety, with which Zherkov spoke, and the studied coldness of Dolohov's replies.

“Well, how do you get on with your officers?” asked Zherkov.

“All right; they're good fellows. How did you manage to poke yourself on to the staff?”

“I was attached; I'm on duty.”

They were silent.

“My gay goshawk I took with me,
From my right sleeve I set him free,”
said the song, arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their conversation would most likely have been different, if they had not been talking while the song was singing.

“Is it true, the Austrians have been beaten?” asked Dolohov.

“Devil knows; they say so.”

“I'm glad,” Dolohov made a brief, sharp reply, as was required to fit in with the tune.

“I say, come round to us some evening; we'll have a game of faro,” said Zherkov.

“Is money so plentiful among you?”

“Do come.”

“I can't; I've sworn not to. I won't drink or play till I'm promoted.”

“Well, but in the first action …”

“Then we shall see.” Again they paused.

“You come, if you want anything; one can always be of use on the staff.…”

Dolohov grinned. “Don't trouble yourself. What I want, I'm not going to ask for; I take it for myself.”

“Oh, well, I only …”

“Well, and I only.”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

“And far and free
To his own country.”
Zherkov put spurs to his horse, which three times picked up its legs excitedly, not knowing which to start from, then galloped off round the company, and overtook the carriage, keeping time too to the song.

“总司令来了！”这时信号兵喊道。

团长脸红了，跑到了马儿前面。他用巍颤颤的手抓住马镫，纵身上马，稳定身子，拔出了军刀。他面带欣喜而坚定的神情，撇着张开的嘴，准备喊口令。整个兵团就像梳平毛羽、振翅欲飞的鸟，抖抖身子，就屏住气息，一动不动了。

“立——正！”团长用震撼人心的嗓音喊道，这声音对他表示欢乐，对兵团表示森严，对前来检阅的首长表示迎迓之意。

几匹马纵列驾着的高大的天蓝色的维也纳轿式四轮马车，沿着没有铺砌路面的宽阔的周围种满树木的大路，奔驰而至，马车的弹簧发出轻微的隆隆响声。侍从们和克罗地亚人的护卫队乘坐轻骑在车后疾驰。一个奥国将军坐在库图佐夫近旁，他身穿一套在俄国人的黑军装之中显得稀奇古怪的白军装。四轮轿式马车在兵团的队列前停下来。库图佐夫和奥国将军轻声地谈论什么事情，库图佐夫微露笑容，当他迈着沉重的步子，从踏板上把腿伸下的时候，俨如他面前并无二千名屏住气息谛视着他和团长的士兵似的。

传来了口令声，兵团的队伍又颤动了，一齐举枪致敬，发出铿锵的响声。在那死一般的肃穆中，总司令的微弱的说话声清晰可闻。全团的士兵拉开了嗓子喊道：“大——人——健康长寿！”全体又屏息不动了。开初，当兵团的队伍行进时，库图佐夫站在一个位置上不动。然后，他和那身穿白军装的将军，在侍从的伴随之下，并排地沿着队列开始徒步检阅。

从团长挺直胸膛、衣着整齐、姿态端正、眼睛谛视总司令举手行军礼来看，从他勉强抑制住微微发抖的步态、身体向前微倾、跟随着二位将军沿着队列徒步检阅来看，从他听见总司令每说一句话，看见总司令每作一次手势就跑上前去唯唯诺诺来看，他履行下属的职务，较诸于履行首长的职务，更能得心应手。与那些同时抵达布劳瑙的兵团相比较，这个兵团由于团长的严厉和勤奋而居于至为优越的地位。掉队者和病号只有二百一十七人。除皮靴而外，其余一切都完整无缺。

库图佐夫沿着队列走过去了。有时停步对他在土耳其战争中认识的军官们说上几句密切的话，有时也对士兵们说几句话。当他望着皮靴时，他有好几回忧郁地摇头，并指着皮靴让奥国将军看看，他那表情能说明，在这件事上他似乎不想责备任何人，但却不能不目睹这种恶劣的情形。每当这时团长就向前跑去，深怕没听见总司令谈论这个兵团的每句话。在每句低声道出的话语都能听见的距离以内，约莫有二十名侍从跟随在库图佐夫身后。侍从先生们互相交谈，有时候发出笑声。一个长得漂亮的副官紧紧地跟着总司令，相隔的距离很近，他就是博尔孔斯基公爵，他的同事涅斯维茨基校官和他并肩同行，他身材魁梧，格外肥胖，长着一张美丽、善良和笑容可掬的脸，一对水汪汪的眼睛，一个面孔有点黧黑的骠骑军官在涅斯维茨基旁边走着，把他逗弄得几乎忍不住要笑。那个骠骑军官没有露出微笑，严肃地用那呆滞的目光望着团长的脊背，滑稽地摹仿团长的每个动作。每当团长微微发抖、向前弯腰的时候，那个骠骑军官就同样地、不爽毫厘地发抖、弯腰。涅斯维茨基一面发笑，一面推撞别人，让他们也来观看这个好逗笑的人。

库图佐夫无精打采地、脚步缓慢地从几千对瞪着眼珠谛视着首长的眼睛旁边走过去。走到第三连近侧的时候，他忽然停步了。侍从们没有预见到他会停步，不由地朝地拥上来。

“啊，季莫欣！”总司令说道，认出了那个因身穿蓝色军大衣而尝到苦头的红鼻子上尉。

季莫欣在团长责备他的时候身子似乎挺得不能再直了。但是，在总司令和他谈话的这个时刻，他把身子挺得更直了。看起来，若是总司令再多望他一会儿，他就会忍受不住了。库图佐夫显然明了上尉的这种窘态，他心中祝愿上尉诸事吉祥，话音一落地就连忙转过脸去。库图佐夫那张因负伤而变得丑陋的胖得发圆的脸上，掠过一丝难以觉察的微笑。

“还有个伊兹梅尔战役的同志，”他说道。“是个勇敢的军官啊！你满意他吗？”库图佐夫向团长问道。

团长在骠骑军官身上的反映，就像照镜子那样，只是团长自己看不见。团长颤栗了一下，向前走去，答道：

“大人，我很满意。”

“我们大家并不是没有弱点，”库图佐夫说道，面露微笑，从他身边走开了。“他忠实于巴克斯”①。

①巴克斯就是罗马神话中的酒神。

团长吓了一跳，这是否就是他的罪过，他什么话也没有回答。这时候军官看见了鼻子发红、腹部收缩的上尉的面孔，就模仿他的面部表情和姿态，模仿得像极了，以致涅斯维茨基不禁笑出声来。库图佐夫扭过头来。看样子，军官能够随心所欲地控制自己的面部表情，当库图左夫扭过头来的刹那间，他装出一副鬼脸，旋即露出至为严肃的毕恭毕敬的纯洁无瑕的表情。

第三连是最后一个连。库图佐夫沉思起来，显然他想起什么事情。安德烈公爵从侍从们中间走出来，用法国话轻声地说道：

“您吩咐我提醒您一件关于本团内受降级处分的多洛霍夫的事情。”

“多洛霍夫在哪里？”库图佐夫问道。

多洛霍夫换上一件士兵的灰军大衣，焦急地等待有人召唤他。一个身材匀称、浅色头发、一对蓝眼睛闪闪发光的士兵从队列中走出来了。他向总司令面前走去，举枪敬礼。

“你有要求吗？”库图佐夫微微地蹙起额头，问道。

“他就是多洛霍夫。”安德烈公爵说道。

“啊！”库图佐夫说道，“我希望这场教训会使你纠正错误，好好地服役。国王是很慈悲的。你只要立功，我就不会把你忘记。”

那双闪闪发光的蓝眼睛放肆地望着总司令，就像正视着团长那样，他好像要用他的表情去冲破那层把总司令和士兵远远分开的隔幕。

“大人，有一件事我要求您，”他用那洪亮、坚定、从容不迫的嗓音说道，“我求您给我一个赎罪的机会，证明我对国王和俄国的一片忠心。”

库图佐夫转过脸来，正如他向季莫欣转过脸来一样，他脸上掠过一丝含在眼中的微笑。他转过脸来，蹙一阵额头，好像他想表明，多洛霍夫对他所说的种种情形，以及多洛霍夫对他可能说到的种种情形，他老早老早就心中有数了，这一切使他厌倦，都是一些根本用不着说的话。他转过头来，向马车面前走去了。

一团人按连站队开往布劳瑙附近指定的驻地，希望在那里能给自己弄到皮靴和军服，在艰苦的行军之后休息休息。

“普罗霍尔·伊格纳季奇，您不会抱怨我吧？”团长骑在马上绕过向营盘走去的第三连官兵，向带领连队的季莫欣上尉面前直奔而去，对他说道，在顺利举行阅兵式之后，团长脸上不禁流露出欣快。“为沙皇效劳……不可以乱来……我有时会在队列中威吓你们一通……我先来道歉，您是知道我的……我十分感谢！”他于是向连长伸出手来。

“将军，哪能呢，我怎敢埋怨您呀！”上尉答道，他的鼻子涨红了，面露微笑，微笑时张开他在伊兹梅尔城下被枪托打落两颗门牙的缺口。

“请转告多洛霍夫先生，我决不会忘记他，要他放心好了。请您告诉我，我总想问您，他怎么样？操行端正么？各方面的表现……”

“大人，他努力工作……可是性格……”季莫欣说道。

“怎么？性格怎么样？”团长问道。

“大人，天天不一样，”上尉说道，“有时候很聪明，有学问，待人和善。有时候不然，他变成野兽了。他在波兰本来打死了一个犹太人……您要知道……”

“是呀，是呀，”团长说道，“还是要怜悯怜悯这个不幸的青年。要知道，他交际广阔，情谊深厚……所以您要……”

“大人，遵命。”季莫欣说道，他面露微笑，表示他明了首长的意愿。

“是呀，是呀。”

团长在队列中找到了多洛霍夫，并且把马勒住了。

“作战前先发肩章。”团长对他说道。

多洛霍夫环顾了四周，没有说什么，也没有改变他那露出嘲笑的嘴角的表情。

“嗯，这就好了，”团长继续说道。“我邀请各位痛饮一杯，”他补充一句，让士兵们都能听见他说的话，“我感谢大家！谢天谢地！”他于是赶到这个连队的前面，并向另一个连队疾驰而去。

“没啥可说的，他确实是个好人，蛮可以和他一道干工作。”季莫欣对在身旁步行的连级军官说道。

“一言以蔽之，他是个红桃！……（团长的绰号叫做‘红桃K'）”那个连级军官一面发笑，一面说道。

长官们在举行阅兵式后的喜悦心情也感染了士兵们。这一连人心情愉快地步行。四面八方都传来士兵谈话的声音。

“有人把库图佐夫叫什么来着，他是个独眼人，只有一只眼睛？”

“可不是么！百分之百的独眼人。”

“不……老弟，他比你更眼尖哩。皮靴和包脚布，什么都看得清清楚楚……”

“我的老弟，他望了望我这双脚……嘿！我以为……”

“还有那个和他同路来的奥国人，好像他全身刷了一层白灰似的，简直白得像面粉！想必有人像擦驮具那样把他擦得干干净净！”

“费杰绍，怎么样！……他不是说过什么时候开始打仗吗？你不是呆在更近的地方？人家老是说，波拿巴本人就驻扎在布鲁诺沃①。”

①布鲁诺沃即是布劳瑙。

“波拿巴会驻扎在这里！瞧，他真是瞎说，笨蛋！他知道什么呀！目前普鲁士人在叛变。这也就是说，奥国人正在戡乱，一旦普鲁士人给镇压下去，就向要波拿巴宣战了。可是他硬说波拿巴驻扎在布鲁诺沃啊！由此可见，他是个笨蛋。你多听一点消息吧。”

“你瞧，设营员这些鬼家伙！瞧，第五连官兵已经拐弯，进村了，他们就要煮稀饭了，可我们还没有到达目的地。”

“鬼东西，给我一点面包干。”

“昨天你给了我一点烟叶，是吗？老弟，怪不得。喂，你拿去吧，上帝保佑你。”

“让我们停下来休息休息也好，要不然，我们还要空着肚子走五俄里左右的路。”

“若是德国人给我们几辆四轮马车，那就妙极了。坐上去满不在乎，真威风！”

“老弟，这里的民众狂暴得很。那里好像都是俄国王权之下的波兰人；老弟，如今这里是清一色的德国人。”

“歌手都到前面来！”可以听见上尉的喊声。

约莫二十人从各个队列中跑到连队的前面。一名领唱的鼓手向歌手们转过脸来，他挥一挥手，唱起悠扬婉转的士兵之歌，歌曲的头一句的字样是：“朝霞升，太阳红……”收尾一句的字样是：“弟兄们，光荣归于卡缅斯基爷爷和我们……”这首歌曲编写于土耳其，现时在奥国流行，只是歌词中有所改动，其中的“卡缅斯基爷爷”已被改成“库图佐夫爷爷”。

鼓手这个消瘦、眉清目秀、约莫四十岁的士兵，依照士兵的惯例突然停止，不喝完最后一句，把两手一挥，好像把一件什么东西扔到地上似的，他向士兵歌手们严肃地瞥了一眼，眯缝起眼睛。之后，当他深信人人的目光都集中在他身上的时候，他好像把一件看不见的贵重物品举在头顶上，呆了片刻后突然使劲地把它扔掉：

哎呀，我的门斗呀，我的门斗！

“我的新门斗……”二十个人接着唱下去，乐匙手尽管担负着沉重的驮具，但却急忙地向前跑去，面向连队后退着行走，微微地抖动肩膀，威吓某人似地击打着乐匙。士兵们合着歌曲的拍节，挥动着手臂，迈开大步，不知不觉地走齐了脚步。连队后面可以听见车轮的辘辘声，弹簧垫的轧轧声和马蹄的得得声。库图佐夫偕同侍从回到城里去。总司令做了个手势，要士兵们继续便步行进，一听见歌声，一望见跳舞的士兵和快活地、脚步敏捷地行进的全连的士兵，总司令及其侍从们的脸上就流露出喜悦的表情。马车从连队右边一跃而过，连队右翼的第二排中，有个蓝眼睛的士兵无意中引人注目，此人就是多洛霍夫，他雄赳赳地、步态优美地合着歌曲的拍节行走着，一面望着从他身旁走过的人们的面孔，那神情就像他很怜悯此时没有跟随连队行进的人。库图佐夫的侍从中的一名骠骑兵少尉曾经模仿团长的姿态，引起一场哄笑，这时候，他落在马车后面，向多洛霍夫跟前奔驰而去。

骠骑兵少尉热尔科夫在彼得堡曾一度属于多洛霍夫把持的暴徒团伙。热尔科夫在国外遇见一个当兵的多洛霍夫，认为没有必要和他结识。如今，当库图佐夫和这个受降级处分的军官谈话之后，他怀着老友会面的喜悦心情向他倾吐所怀。

“知心的挚友，你怎么样了？”他在听见歌声时说道，一面使他的坐骑和连队的步调一致。

“我怎么样？”多洛霍夫冷漠地答道，“正像你望见的这个样子。”

节拍轻快的歌声，使热尔科夫说话时那种无拘无束的愉快的语调和多洛霍夫回答时故意装出的冷漠的神态，赋有一种特殊意义。

“喂，你是怎样和首长搞好关系的？”热尔科夫问道。

“没有什么，都是一些好人。你是怎样混进司令部的？”

“暂时调来的，由我值班嘛。”

他们沉默了片刻。

“她从右手袖筒中放出一只雄鹰，”歌词中写道，歌词无意中引起一种朝气蓬勃的愉快的感觉。假若他们不是在听见歌声时交谈，他们的话题也许就不同了。

“打垮了奥国人，是真的么？”多洛霍夫问道。

“大家这样说，鬼才知道啊。”

“我很高兴。”正像歌词所要求的那样，多洛霍夫简而明地答道。

“好吧，随便哪天晚上请到我们那里来打法拉昂纸牌吧。”

热尔科夫说道。

“也许是你们捞到许多钱了？”

“你来吧。”

“不行，我已经发誓了。在没有晋升以前，我不喝酒，不赌钱。”

“也罢，在打仗以前……”

“到时候就见分晓。”

他们又沉吟起来。

“你需要什么就来吧，司令部里大家都会帮忙的……”热尔科夫说道。

多洛霍夫冷冷一笑。

“你还是放心好了。我需要什么不会去索求，我自己准能办到。”

“也罢，我只是这样说……”

“我也只是这样说。”

“再见。”

“祝你健康……”

……眺望故土，

关山远阻……

热尔科夫用马刺刺马，马暴躁起来，发了烈性，用蹄子约莫跺了三下，不知道先要伸出哪条腿，定神之后，疾驰起来，也同样合着歌曲的节拍赶到连队前面去追赶四轮轿式马车。