THE REST of the infantry1 pressed together into a funnel2 shape at the entrance of the bridge, and hastily marched across it. At last all the baggage-waggons had passed over; the crush was less, and the last battalion3 were stepping on to the bridge. Only the hussars of Denisov's squadron were left on the further side of the river facing the enemy. The enemy, visible in the distance from the opposite mountain, could not yet be seen from the bridge below, as, from the valley, through which the river flowed, the horizon was bounded by rising ground not more than half a mile away. In front lay a waste plain dotted here and there with handfuls of our scouting4 Cossacks. Suddenly on the road, where it ran up the rising ground opposite, troops came into sight wearing blue tunics5 and accompanied by artillery6. They were the French. A scouting party of Cossacks trotted7 away down the hillside. Though the officers and the men of Denisov's squadron tried to talk of other things, and to look in other directions, they all thought continually of nothing else but what was there on the hillside, and kept constantly glancing towards the dark patches they saw coming into sight on the sky-line, and recognised as the enemy's forces. The weather had cleared again after midday, and the sun shone brilliantly as it began to go down over the Danube and the dark mountains that encircle it. The air was still, and from the hillside there floated across from time to time the sound of bugles8 and of the shouts of the enemy. Between the squadron and the enemy there was no one now but a few scouting parties. An empty plain, about six hundred yards across, separated them from the hostile troops. The enemy had ceased firing, and that made even more keenly felt the stern menace of that inaccessible9, unassailable borderland that was the dividing-line between the two hostile armies.
“One step across that line, that suggests the line dividing the living from the dead, and unknown sufferings and death. And what is there? and who is there? there, beyond that field and that tree and the roofs with the sunlight on them? No one knows, and one longs to know and dreads10 crossing that line, and longs to cross it, and one knows that sooner or later one will have to cross it and find out what there is on the other side of the line, just as one must inevitably11 find out what is on the other side of death. Yet one is strong and well and cheerful and nervously12 excited, and surrounded by men as strong in the same irritable13 excitement.” That is how every man, even if he does not think, feels in the sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a peculiar14 brilliance15 and delightful16 keenness to one's impressions of all that takes place at such moments.
On the rising ground occupied by the enemy, there rose the smoke of a shot, and a cannon17 ball flew whizzing over the heads of the squadron of hussars. The officers, who had been standing18 together, scattered19 in different directions. The hussars began carefully getting their horses back into line. The whole squadron subsided20 into silence. All the men were looking at the enemy in front and at the commander of the squadron, expecting an order to be given. Another cannon ball flew by them, and a third. There was no doubt that they were firing at the hussars. But the cannon balls, whizzing regularly and rapidly, flew over the heads of the hussars and struck the ground beyond them. The hussars did not look round, but at each sound of a flying ball, as though at the word of command, the whole squadron, with their faces so alike, through all their dissimilarity, rose in the stirrups, holding their breath, as the ball whizzed by, then sank again. The soldiers did not turn their heads, but glanced out of the corners of their eyes at one another, curious to see the effect on their comrades. Every face from Denisov down to the bugler21 showed about the lips and chin the same lines of conflict and nervous irritability22 and excitement. The sergeant23 frowned, looking the soldiers up and down, as though threatening them with punishment. Ensign Mironov ducked at the passing of each cannon ball. On the left flank, Rostov on his Rook—a handsome beast, in spite of his unsound legs—had the happy air of a schoolboy called up before a large audience for an examination in which he is confident that he will distinguish himself. He looked serenely24 and brightly at every one, as though calling upon them all to notice how unconcerned he was under fire. But into his face too there crept, against his will, that line about the mouth that betrayed some new and strenuous25 feeling.
“Who's bobbing up and down there? Ensign Mironov! Not the thing! look at me!” roared Denisov, who could not keep still in one place, but galloped27 to and fro before the squadron.
The snub-nosed, black, hairy face of Vaska Denisov, and his little, battered28 figure, and the sinewy29, short-fingered hand in which he held the hilt of his naked sword—his whole figure was just as it always was, especially in the evening after he had drunk a couple of bottles. He was only rather redder in the face than usual, and tossing back his shaggy head, as birds do when they drink, his little legs mercilessly driving the spurs into his good horse Bedouin, he galloped to the other flank of the squadron, looking as though he were falling backwards30 in the saddle, and shouted in a husky voice to the men to look to their pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The staff-captain on his stout31, steady charger rode at a walking pace to meet him. The staff-captain's face with its long whiskers was serious, as always, but his eyes looked brighter than usual.
“Well,” he said to Denisov, “it won't come to a fight. You'll see, we shall retreat again.”
“Devil knows what they're about!” growled32 Denisov. “Ah, Rostov!” he called to the ensign, noticing his beaming face. “Well, you've not had long to wait.” And he smiled approvingly, unmistakably pleased at the sight of the ensign. Rostov felt perfectly33 blissful. At that moment the colonel appeared at the bridge. Denisov galloped up to him.
“Your excellency, let us attack! we'll settle them.”
“Attack, indeed!” said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering34 his face up as though at a teasing fly. “And what are you stopping here for? You see the flanks are retreating. Lead the squadron back.”
The squadron crossed the bridge and passed out of range of the enemy's guns without losing a single man. It was followed by the second squadron, and the Cossacks last of all crossed, leaving the further side of the river clear.
The two squadrons of the Pavlograd regiment35, after crossing the bridge, rode one after the other up the hill. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanitch Schubert, had joined Denisov's squadron, and was riding at a walking pace not far from Rostov, taking no notice of him, though this was the first time they had met since the incident in connection with Telyanin. Rostov, feeling himself at the front in the power of the man towards whom be now admitted that he had been to blame, never took his eyes off the athletic37 back, and flaxen head and red neck of the colonel. It seemed to Rostov at one time that Bogdanitch was only feigning38 inattention, and that his whole aim was now to test the ensign's pluck; and he drew himself up and looked about him gaily39. Then he fancied that Bogdanitch was riding close by him on purpose to show off his own valour. Then the thought struck him that his enemy was now sending the squadron to a hopeless attack on purpose to punish him, Rostov. Then he dreamed of how after the attack he would go up to him as he lay wounded, and magnanimously hold out his hand in reconciliation40. The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, who was known to the Pavlograd hussars, as he had not long before left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After Zherkov had been dismissed from the staff of the commander-in-chief, he had not remained in the regiment, saying that he was not such a fool as to go to hard labour at the front when he could get more pay for doing nothing on the staff, and he had succeeded in getting appointed an orderly on the staff of Prince Bagration. He rode up to his old colonel with an order from the commander of the rear guard.
“Colonel,” he said, with his gloomy seriousness, addressing Rostov's enemy, and looking round at his comrades, “there's an order to go back and burn the bridge.”
“An order, who to?” asked the colonel grimly.
“Well, I don't know, colonel, who to,” answered the cornet, seriously, “only the prince commanded me: ‘Ride and tell the colonel the hussars are to make haste back and burn the bridge.' ”
Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite42, who rode up to the colonel with the same command. After the officer of the suite the stout figure of Nesvitsky was seen riding up on a Cossack's horse, which had some trouble to gallop26 with him.
“Why, colonel,” he shouted, while still galloping43 towards him, “I told you to burn the bridge, and now some one's got it wrong; they're all frantic44 over there, there's no making out anything.”
The colonel in a leisurely45 way stopped the regiment and turned to Nesvitsky.
“You told me about burning materials,” he said; “but about burning it, you never said a word.”
“Why, my good man,” said Nesvitsky, as he halted, taking off his forage-cap and passing his plump hand over his hair, which was drenched46 with sweat, “what need to say the bridge was to be burnt when you put burning materials to it?”
“I'm not your ‘good man,' M. le staff-officer, and you never told me to set fire to the bridge! I know my duty, and it's my habit to carry out my orders strictly47. You said the bridge will be burnt, but who was going to burn it I couldn't tell.”
“Well, that's always the way,” said Nesvitsky, with a wave of his arm. “How do you come here?” he added, addressing Zherkov.
“Why, about the same order. You're sopping48 though, you want to be rubbed down.”
“You said, M. le staff-officer …” pursued the colonel in an aggrieved49 tone.
“Colonel,” interposed the officer of the suite, “there is need of haste, or the enemy will have moved up their grape-shot guns.”
The colonel looked dumbly at the officer of the suite, at the stout staff-officer, at Zherkov, and scowled50.
“I will burn the bridge,” he said in a solemn tone, as though he would express that in spite of everything they might do to annoy him, he would still do what he ought.
Beating his long muscular legs against his horse, as though he were to blame for it all, the colonel moved forward and commanded the second squadron, the one under Denisov's command, in which Rostov was serving, to turn back to the bridge.
“Yes, it really is so,” thought Rostov, “he wants to test me!” His heart throbbed51 and the blood rushed to his face. “Let him see whether I'm a coward!” he thought.
Again all the light-hearted faces of the men of the squadron wore that grave line, which had come upon them when they were under fire. Rostov looked steadily52 at his enemy, the colonel, trying to find confirmation53 of his suppositions on his face. But the colonel never once glanced at Rostov, and looked, as he always did at the front, stern and solemn. The word of command was given.
“Look sharp! look sharp!” several voices repeated around him.
Their swords catching54 in the reins55 and their spurs jingling56, the hussars dismounted in haste, not knowing themselves what they were to do. The soldiers crossed themselves. Rostov did not look at the colonel now; he had no time. He dreaded57, with a sinking heart he dreaded, being left behind by the hussars. His hand trembled as he gave his horse to an orderly, and he felt that the blood was rushing to his heart with a thud. Denisov, rolling backwards, and shouting something, rode by him. Rostov saw nothing but the hussars running around him, clinking spurs and jingling swords.
“Stretchers!” shouted a voice behind him. Rostov did not think of the meaning of the need of stretchers. He ran along, trying only to be ahead of all. But just at the bridge, not looking at his feet, he got into the slippery, trodden mud, and stumbling fell on his hands. The others out-stripped him.
“On both sides, captain,” he heard shouted by the colonel, who, riding on ahead, had pulled his horse up near the bridge, with a triumphant58 and cheerful face.
Rostov, rubbing his muddy hands on his riding-breeches, looked round at his enemy, and would have run on further, imagining that the forwarder he went the better it would be. But though Bogdanitch was not looking, and did not recognise Rostov, he shouted to him.
“Who will go along the middle of the bridge? On the right side? Ensign, back!” he shouted angrily, and he turned to Denisov, who with swaggering bravado59 rode on horseback on to the planks60 of the bridge.
“Why run risks, captain? You should dismount,” said the colonel.
“Eh! it'll strike the guilty one,” said Vaska Denisov, turning in his saddle.
Meanwhile Nesvitsky, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing together out of range of the enemy, watching the little group of men in yellow shakoes, dark-green jackets, embroidered61 with frogs, and blue riding-breeches, swarming62 about the bridge, and on the other side of the river the blue tunics and the groups with horses, that might so easily be taken for guns, approaching in the distance.
“Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they run there and burn it, or the French train their grape-shot on them and kill them?” These were the questions that, with a sinking of the heart, each man was asking himself in the great mass of troops overlooking the bridge. In the brilliant evening sunshine they gazed at the bridge and the hussars and at the blue tunics, with bayonets and guns, moving up on the other side.
“Ugh! The hussars will be caught,” said Nesvitsky. “They're not out of range of grape-shot now.”
“He did wrong to take so many men,” said the officer of the suite.
“Yes, indeed,” said Nesvitsky. “If he'd sent two bold fellows it would have done as well.”
“Ah, your excellency,” put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed63 on the hussars, though he still spoke64 with his na?ve manner, from which one could not guess whether he were speaking seriously or not. “Ah, your excellency. How you look at things. Send two men, but who would give us the Vladimir and ribbon then? But as it is, even if they do pepper them, one can represent the squadron and receive the ribbon oneself. Our good friend Bogdanitch knows the way to do things.”
“I say,” said the officer of the suite, “that's grape-shot.”
He pointed41 to the French guns, which had been taken out of the gun-carriages, and were hurriedly moving away.
On the French side, smoke rose among the groups that had cannons65. One puff66, a second and a third almost at the same instant; and at the very moment when they heard the sound of the first shot, there rose the smoke of a fourth; two booms came one after another, then a third.
“Oh, oh!” moaned Nesvitsky, clutching at the hand of the officer of the suite, as though in intense pain. “Look, a man has fallen, fallen, fallen!”
“Two, I think.”
“If I were Tsar, I'd never go to war,” said Nesvitsky, turning away.
The French cannons were speedily loaded again. The infantry in their blue tunics were running towards the bridge. Again the puffs67 of smoke rose at different intervals68, and the grape-shot rattled69 and cracked on the bridge. But this time Nesvitsky could not see what was happening at the bridge. A thick cloud of smoke had risen from it. The hussars had succeeded in setting fire to the bridge, and the French batteries were firing at them now, not to hinder them, but because their guns had been brought up and they had some one to fire at.
The French had time to fire three volleys of grape-shot before the hussars got back to their horses. Two were badly aimed, and the shot flew over them, but the last volley fell in the middle of the group of hussars and knocked down three men.
Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanitch, stepped on the bridge, not knowing what he had to do. There was no one to slash71 at with his sword (that was how he always pictured a battle to himself), and he could be of no use in burning the bridge, because he had not brought with him any wisps of straw, like the other soldiers. He stood and looked about him, when suddenly there was a rattle70 on the bridge, like a lot of nuts being scattered, and one of the hussars, the one standing nearest him, fell with a groan72 on the railing. Rostov ran up to him with the others. Again some one shouted. “Stretchers!” Four men took hold of the hussar and began lifting him up. “Oooo! … Let me be, for Christ's sake!” shrieked73 the wounded man, but still they lifted him up and laid him on a stretcher. Nikolay Rostov turned away, and began staring into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, at the sun, as though he were searching for something. How fair that sky seemed, how blue and calm and deep. How brilliant and triumphant seemed the setting sun. With what an enticing74 glimmer75 shone the water of the faraway Danube. And fairer still were the far-away mountains that showed blue beyond the Danube, the nunnery, the mysterious gorges77, the pine forests, filled with mist to the tree-tops … there all was peace and happiness.… “There is nothing, nothing I could wish for, if only I were there,” thought Rostov. “In myself alone and in that sunshine there is so much happiness, while here … groans78, agonies, and this uncertainty79, this hurry.… Here they are shouting something again and again, all of them are running back somewhere, and I'm running with them, and here is it, it, death hanging over me, all round me.… One instant, and I shall never see that sunshine, that water, that mountain gorge76 again.…” At that moment the sun went behind the clouds; more stretchers came into view ahead of Rostov. And the terror of death and of the stretchers, and the loss of the sunshine and life, all blended into one sensation of sickening fear.
“Good God, Thou who art in that sky, save and forgive, and protect me,” Rostov whispered to himself.
The hussars ran back to their horses; their voices grew louder and more assured; the stretchers disappeared from sight.
“Well, lad, so you've had a sniff80 of powder!” Vaska Denisov shouted in his ear.
“It's all over, but I am a coward, yes, I am a coward,” thought Rostov, and with a heavy sigh he took his Rook, who had begun to go lame36 of one leg, from the man who held him and began mounting.
“What was that—grape-shot?” he asked of Denisov.
“Yes, and something like it too,” cried Denisov; “they worked their guns in fine style. But it's a nasty business. A cavalry81 attack's a pleasant thing—slash away at the dogs; but this is for all the devil like aiming at a target.”
And Denisov rode away to a group standing not far from Rostov, consisting of the colonel, Nesvitsky, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite.
“It seems as if no one noticed it, though,” Rostov thought to himself. And indeed no one had noticed it at all, for every one was familiar with the feeling that the ensign, never before under fire, was experiencing for the first time.
“Now you'll have something to talk about,” said Zherkov; “they'll be promoting me a sub-lieutenant before I know where I am, eh?”
“Inform the prince that I have burnt the bridge,” said the colonel, in a cheerful and triumphant tone.
“And if he inquires with what losses?”
“Not worth mentioning,” boomed the colonel; “two hussars wounded and one stark82 dead on the spot,” he said, with undisguised cheerfulness. The German was unable to repress a smile of satisfaction as he sonorously83 enunciated84 the idiomatic85 Russian colloquialism86 of the last phrase.
其余的步兵呈漏斗形挤缩在桥头，急急忙忙地过桥。一辆辆大车终于走过去了，已经不太拥挤了，最后一个营也走到桥上。杰尼索夫骑兵连的骠骑兵只有留在桥那边抗拒敌军。从对面山上可以远远地望见敌军，可是从下面桥上还望不见它，因为河水流经谷地，往前不逾半俄里，对面的高地就出现在地平线的尽头。前面是一片沙漠，一小股一小股的哥萨克侦察兵在沙漠中的某处慢慢地移动。忽然间身穿蓝色外套的军队的官兵和炮兵在对面的高地上出现了。他们都是法国人。哥萨克侦察兵飞也似地下山了。杰尼索夫骑兵连的全体官兵，虽然极力地谈论着不相干的事情，眼睛向四周观望，而心中不断地想到的却只是那边山上的动态，他们不停地注视地平线上出现的黑点，认为那是敌人的军队。午后又转晴了，耀眼的阳光落在多瑙河和它周围的暗山上。四下里一片寂静，有时候从那山上传来敌军的号角声和呐喊声。在骑兵连和敌军之间，除了小股的侦察兵而外，已经没有人影了。约莫有三百俄丈的空空荡荡的地段把他们和敌军分隔开来。敌军停止射击了，那条把敌对的两军分隔开来的森严可畏、不可接近、难以辨认的界线于是使人更加清晰地感觉到了。
向这条似可划分生者与死者的界线跨出一步，就会面临未知的痛苦和死亡。那儿是什么？谁在那儿？在这片田野、树木、阳光照耀的屋顶后面？谁也不知道，又很想知道。逾越这条界线是很可怕的但又很想逾越它。而且你知道，或迟或早不得不逾越过去，以便深入地了解界线那边是什么，正如不可避免地要了解死亡的那一面是什么一样，而你自己身强体壮、心情愉快、易于兴奋，你周围的人们也很健壮、易于兴奋、生气勃勃。每一个看见敌人的人，即令没有这种想法，也有这种感觉，而这种感觉会使此时此刻发生的一切赋有一种特殊的光泽和令人欣悦的深刻而强烈的印象。
敌军的小山岗上放炮后冒起了一股烟雾，一枚炮弹从骑兵连头顶上方呼啸着飞过去了。先前站在一块的军官们四散走开了。骠骑兵设法把马匹排列得整整齐齐。骑兵连里寂然无声。大家都向正前方望着敌军，望着骑兵连长，等待他发口令。第二枚炮弹、第三枚炮弹都飞过去了。很明显，炮弹是向骠骑兵发射的，但是炮弹迅速地有节奏地从骠骑兵头顶上呼啸着飞过，命中了后面的什么地方。骠骑兵未向四周环顾，但是每当听见炮弹飞过的响声，整个骑兵连队就像听从口令似的，都屏住气息，一些人露出同样的面部表情，另一些人却不同。当炮弹掠空而过时，他们都在马镫上欠起身子，而后又坐下来。士兵们并未扭过头来，都斜起眼睛互相望着，怀有好奇的心情仔细观察战友的感应。从杰尼索夫到号手，在每个人的脸上，在嘴唇和下颏旁边流露出一种内心斗争、兴奋和激动的神情。司务长愁眉苦脸，不时地望着士兵，好像要用处分来威吓他们似的。士官生朱罗诺夫每当炮弹飞过时，总要弯下身子。罗斯托夫骑着他那匹有点跛腿的良骓“白嘴鸦”，站在左翼，露出走运的样子，就像一个小学生被喊到一群人面前应试，并且相信自己会取得优异成绩似的。他双目炯炯有神，打量着众人，仿佛是请他们注意他在枪林弹雨之下不慌不乱，非常镇静。但在他的嘴角边情不自禁地流露出异于往日的十分严肃的面部表现。
“谁在那里低头弯腰地鞠躬？士官生朱罗诺夫吗？很不好！您望着我吗！”杰尼索夫高声喊道，他在那个地方站不下去，便骑着马儿在骑兵连队面前兜圈子。
翘鼻孔的黑头发的瓦西卡·杰尼索夫的面孔、他那矮小而结实的身体、握着出鞘的马刀刀柄的青筋赤露的手（手指很短，长满了细毛），与其平日的样子完全相同，尤其是与黄昏前喝完两瓶烧酒之后的样子相同。他满面通红，不过较诸于平日显得更红。他像小鸟喝水时一样，仰起他那头发蓬乱的头，两条细腿使劲地用马刺刺着那匹良骓贝杜英的两肋，他那身子俨像要向后跌倒似的，骑着马儿向连队的另一翼疾驰而去；他开始用他嘶哑的嗓门叫喊，要大家检查手枪。这时他策马跑到基尔斯坚面前，骑兵上尉骑着一匹肥大的稳重的母马，跨出一步，向杰尼索夫走来。骑兵上尉长着很长的胡髭，像平日一样严肃，只是那对眼睛比平日更加炯炯有神。
“怎么啦？”他对杰尼索夫说道，“打是打不起来的。你看得见，我们一定要撤退。”
“鬼知道他们在做什么事！”杰尼索夫唠叨地说。“啊！罗斯托夫！”他看见士官生那副快活的面孔，便向他喊了一声，“嗯，你总算等到了。”
他微微一笑，表示称赞，很明显，对士官生表示中意。罗斯托夫觉得自己幸运极了。这时候首长在桥上露面了。杰尼索夫骑马跑到他跟前。
“大人！让我们发动进攻！我把他们统统击溃。”
“这里有什么可进攻的，”首长用沉闷的嗓音说道，像赶开那只讨厌的苍蝇似地蹙起额角，“您干嘛站在这儿？您看，两翼的官兵正在撤退。您把骑兵连带回去吧。”
这个骑兵连过了桥，从射程以内退了出来，没有一人阵亡。先前展开散兵线的第二骑兵连跟在后面走过去了，最后走的哥萨克腾出了那一片土地。
保罗格勒兵团的两个骑兵连过桥了，一连紧跟一连地向山上退却。团长卡尔·波格丹内奇策马跑到杰尼索夫的骑兵连前面，他在离罗斯托夫不远的地方徐步驶行；虽然他们曾为捷利亚宁的事发生冲突，冲突之后他们初次见面，但是他不去理睬他。罗斯托夫觉得在前线有权支配他的人正是此时他认为自己对不住的这个人。他目不转睛地望着团长那大力士般的脊背、浅色头发的后脑勺和通红的脖子。罗斯托夫时而觉得波格丹内奇只是装出一副不留神的样子罢了，他这时的意向全在于考验一名士官生的勇敢精神，他于是挺直胸膛，十分愉快地向四周张望。他时而觉得，波格丹内奇故意在附近驶行，他要向罗斯托夫显示一下他的勇敢精神。他时而想到，他的仇敌此时故意派遣骑兵连队奋不顾身地去发动进攻，目的是在于惩罚他罗斯托夫。他时而又想，在大举进攻之后，他将要走到他跟前，向他这个负伤的人故作慷慨地伸出和事之手。
保罗格勒兵团的官兵都熟悉那两肩高耸的热尔科夫的身材（他在不久前才退出他们的兵团），他骑马跑到团长面前。热尔科夫被驱逐出司令部之后，没有留在兵团里，他说他懂得在前线要干苦差事，而在司令部即使不干事也能获得更多的奖赏。他凭自己的本领在巴格拉季翁公爵门下谋得了传令军官的职位。他持有后卫司令官的命令前来叩见从前的首长。
“团长，”他把脸转向罗斯托夫的仇敌，一面端详着从前的战友们，露出阴悒而严肃的神情，说道，“命令大家停下来，烧毁桥梁。”
“向谁颁布的命令？”团长固执地问道。
“上校，我也不知道是向谁颁布的命令，”骑兵少尉一本正经地回答，“公爵只是命令我：骑马去告诉上校，要骠骑兵快点退回来，把桥梁烧掉。”
一名侍从武官跟在热尔科夫身后持有同样的命令前来叩见骠骑兵上校。胖乎乎的涅斯维茨基紧随侍从武官之后，骑着一匹吃力地驮着他的哥萨克马奔驰而来。
“上校，怎么啦，”他还在骑行就大声喊道，“我和您说过要焚烧桥梁，可眼下是谁把话传错了，他们在那里都快发疯了，乱七八糟，弄不清。”
上校从容不迫地把一团人阻止住了，于是面向涅斯维茨基，说道：
“您对我说过引火的燃料的事，”他说道，“可是烧毁桥梁的事，您没有说过半句。”
“老爷子，哪能这样呢，”涅斯维茨基停步了，摘下军帽，用那胖胖的手弄平汗湿的头发，开腔说道，“已经放下了引火的燃料，怎么没说过烧桥的事呢？”
“校官先生，我不是您的‘老爷子'，您没有对我传达烧毁桥梁的事啊！我知道份内的事，我有严格执行命令的习惯。您说要烧掉桥梁，可是谁去烧桥呢？我简直弄不明白……”
“嗯，这种事总会有的，”涅斯维茨基挥挥手说道。“你怎么在这儿呢？”他面向热尔科夫说道。
“就是为了那件事。不过你把衣服弄湿了，我来给你拧干吧。”
“校官先生，您说了……”上校带着气恼的声调继续说道。
“上校，”侍从武官打断他的话，“要赶快采取行动，否则，敌军把大炮移近一点，就要发射霰弹了。”
上校默默无言地望望侍从武官，望望肥胖的校官，又望望热尔科夫，就皱起眉头。
“由我来烧毁桥梁。”他带着庄重的语调说道，仿佛用这句话来表示，虽然别人会给他制造种种麻烦，他总要办好该办的事情。
上校用他那肌肉丰满的长腿踢了踢马，仿佛那匹马总有罪过似的，他开始挺进了；罗斯托夫由杰尼索夫指挥，在第二骑兵连服役，这时候上校向第二骑兵连发出口令，要该连队向桥上撤退。
“咳，真是这样，”罗斯托夫想了想，“他要来考验我啦！”他的心抽紧了，血液直涌到脸上，怒火上升了。“就请他瞧瞧，我是不是个胆小鬼。”他想了想。
骑兵连的人们的十分愉快的脸上又出现了他们站在炮弹下脸上带着的那种严峻的表情。罗斯托夫目不转睛地望着他的仇敌——团长，想在他脸上发现，他的猜测已被证明是正确的；可是上校没有瞧罗斯托夫一眼，而是像平常在前线那样严肃而洋洋自得地东张西望。发出了口令。
“赶快！赶快！”他周围的几个人异口同声地说道。
骠骑兵急急忙忙地下马，马刀被缠绳挂住了，马刺发出丁当的响声，他们自己不知道他们要做什么事。骠骑兵画着十字。罗斯托夫已经不去望团长了，他没有工夫去望他。他非常害怕，心慌意乱，极度紧张，害怕他要落在骠骑兵后面。当他把马交给控马兵时，他的一只手颤栗着，而且他觉得血液突突地涌上心头。杰尼索夫的身子向后倾斜，喊叫着什么，从他身旁走过去了。骠骑兵们被马刺挂住，马刀相撞时发出铿锵的响声，除了在罗斯托夫周围奔走的骠骑兵而外，他什么也没有看见。
“担架啊！”有个人在他后面高声喊道。
罗斯托夫没有去思考，把担架叫来意味着什么，他一直跑着，只是想方设法要跑到大伙儿前面去，可是一到了桥头，因为没有当心自己脚下的东西，陷入了踩得稀烂的泥泞中，他绊了一跤，跌倒了，两只手撑在地上。别人绕过他，跑到前面去了。
“骑兵上尉，靠西边走，”他听见团长说话的声音，团长骑着马跑到了前头，在离桥头不远的地方停住了，他脸上带着愉快而洋洋自得的神色。
罗斯托夫在紧腿裤上揩着粘满污泥的手，朝他的敌人望了一眼，想跑到更远的地方去，他以为向前跑得越远就越好。虽然波格丹内奇并没有抬眼去看罗斯托夫，也没有把他认出来，但他还是向他喊了一声：
“谁在桥中间跑呢？靠右边走！士官生，向后转！”他把脸转向杰尼索夫，气忿地喊道，杰尼索夫想要炫耀自己的勇气，便骑着马儿跑到桥上去了。
“骑兵上尉，为什么要冒险啊！您从马上下来吧。”上校说道。
“嗳！有罪的人才会倒霉。”瓦西卡·杰尼索夫坐在马鞍上，转过脸来答道。
其时，涅斯维茨基、热尔科夫和侍从军官一同站在射程以外的地方，时而观看这群正在桥头蠕蠕而动的官兵，他们头戴黄色的高筒军帽、身穿绣有绦带的暗绿色上装和蓝色的紧腿马裤，时而观看远处慢慢地移近的身穿蓝色外套的法国兵和骑马的人群——很容易认出那是炮队。
“他们会烧掉桥梁，或是没法把它烧掉？谁首先动手？他们先跑到，把桥梁烧掉，或是法国人先到，发射霰弹，把他们全部歼灭呢？”这一大批军队中的每个人几乎要屏住气息，情不自禁地向自己提出这些问题，这批军队停留在桥梁对面的高地上，夕阳的余晖灿烂夺目，他们在夕照之下观看着桥梁和骠骑兵，观看着对岸，并且观看着身穿蓝色外套、配备有刺刀和大炮、逐渐地向前推进的法国兵。
“啊呀！骠骑兵要受惩罚啦！”涅斯维茨基说道，“目前正处在霰弹射程以内。”
“他带领这么许多人是徒劳无功的。”一名侍从军官说道。
“真的，”涅斯维茨基说道，“派两个棒小伙子就行啦，横竖一样。”
“咳，大人，”热尔科夫插嘴了，他目不转睛地望着骠骑兵，但还是带着他那副天真的样子，真没法琢磨他开口说的是不是正经话，“咳，大人！您是怎样评论的！派出两个人，可是由谁给我们颁发弗拉基米尔勋章呢？这么说，即使他们硬要打，也不要紧，还是可以呈请首长给骑兵连发奖，他自己也可以获得弗拉基米尔勋章。我们的波格丹内奇办起事来是有一套办法的。”
“喂，”一名侍从军官说道，“这是霰弹啊！”
他指了指那几样从前车卸下、急忙撤走的法国大炮。
在法军那边，在拥有大炮的一群群官兵中冒出了一股硝烟，而第二股、第三股硝烟几乎在同时冒了出来；当传来第一声炮响的时刻，冒出了第四股硝烟。听见了两次炮声，一声接着一声，又听见第三次炮声。
“啊，啊呀！”涅斯维茨基唉声叹气，一把抓着侍从军官的手，仿佛他感到一阵剧痛似的，“您瞧瞧，有个人倒下来了，倒下来了，倒下来了啊！”
“好像是有两个人倒下来了，对吗？”
“如果我是个沙皇，就永远不要打仗了。”涅斯维茨基转过脸去，说道。
法国大炮又急忙地装上弹药了。步兵们身穿蓝色外套向一座桥边跑去了。但是在那个不同的时刻，又冒出一股股硝烟，霰弹从桥上发出噼啦的响声。这次，涅斯维茨基没法子看清桥上发生的事情。桥上升起了一股浓烟。骠骑兵们烧毁了桥梁，几座法国炮台向他们放炮，目的并不是打扰他们的阵地，而是用大炮瞄准目标，向他们大家射击。
在骠骑兵们回到控马兵那里以前，法国人已经发射了三次霰弹。两梭子霰弹射击得不准，霰弹都飞过去了，可是最后一次发射的霰弹落在一小群骠骑兵中间，掀倒了三个人。
罗斯托夫很担心自己对波格丹内奇的态度，他于是在桥上停止了脚步，他不知道他要怎么办才对。这时候，没有什么人可以砍杀（正像他经常设想到战斗的情况那样），他也没法去帮助他人烧毁桥梁，因为他不像其他士兵那样都携带着引火用的草辫。他站着，向四周张望，忽然间桥上传来了噼啪的响声，就像撒落坚果似的，离他最近的一名骠骑兵哼了一声倒在栏杆上。罗斯托夫和其他人跑到他跟前。又有什么人高声喊道：“担架啊！”四个人搀扶着这个骠骑兵，把他抬起来。
“啊！啊！啊！……看在基督面上，行行善吧，请你们把我扔开。”负伤的人喊道，但是他们还是把他抬起来，放在担架上。
尼古拉·罗斯托夫转过脸去，好像在寻找什么东西，他开始观看远方，观看多瑙河的流水，观看天空，观看太阳！天空多么美丽、多么蔚蓝、平静而深邃啊！渐渐西沉的太阳多么明亮而且壮观啊！遥远的多瑙河的流水闪烁着多么温柔的光辉啊！多瑙河对岸的浅蓝色的远山、寺庙、神秘的峡谷、烟雾迷漫于树巅的松林……显得更加绚丽多姿。那地方恬静而祥和……“我只要呆在那个地方，我就不奢望什么，不奢望什么，”罗斯托夫想道，“在我心中，在这轮太阳中充满着许多幸福之光，而在这个地方，一片呻吟、苦难与恐怖，还有那溟蒙混沌与忙乱……人们又在叫喊着什么，又在向后面奔跑，我也和他们一同奔跑，你瞧，就是它，你瞧，就是它，死亡在我的上方，在我的四周回荡……顷刻间，我就永远看不见这轮太阳，这泓流水，这座峡谷了……”
这时分太阳开始在乌云后面隐藏起来了；在罗斯托夫前面出现了另一些担架。死亡和担架引起的恐怖以及对太阳和生活的热爱——这一切已经融汇成一种令人痛苦而惶恐的印象。
“上帝啊！这个天上的主啊，拯救我，饶恕我，保佑我吧！”
罗斯托夫喃喃地说。
骠骑兵向控马兵身边跑去了，人们的话语声变得更洪亮、更平静，担架已经消失不见了。
“老兄，怎么样，你闻到一点火药气味吧？……”瓦西卡·杰尼索夫在他耳畔大声喊道。
“什么都完了，不过我是个胆小鬼，是的，我是个胆小鬼，”罗斯托夫想了想，深深叹口气，便从控马兵手里牵走他那匹腿上有点毛病的“白嘴鸦”，纵身骑上去了。
“那是什么啦，是霰弹吧？”他向杰尼索夫问道。
“当然是霰弹，还是什么别的吗！”杰尼索夫喊道，“我们干起活来，都是好汉！可是这活儿糟糕透了！冲锋陷阵是令人愉快的事，把这些狗东西打个落花流水，可是在这里，人家竟像打靶似的向我们射击哩。”
杰尼索夫于是向站在罗斯托夫附近的一群人——团长、涅斯维茨基、热尔科夫和侍从军官——走去。
“但是，好像没有人发觉。”罗斯托夫暗自想道。确实谁也没有发觉什么，因为每个人都熟悉没有打过仗的士官生初次上阵时体会到的那种感觉。
“这是您的一份战绩报告，”热尔科夫说道，“你瞧，我就要当上少尉了。”
“请禀告公爵，我把桥烧了。”上校愉快而洋洋得意地说道。
“如果有人向我问到伤亡情况呢？”
“这没有关系！”上校压低嗓门说道，“两名骠骑兵受了伤，一名战死疆场，”他怀着明显的喜悦的心情说道，没法子忍住愉快的微笑，用他那洪亮的嗓音斩钉截铁地说出“战死疆场”这个优雅的字眼。
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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bugles
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| 妙脆角，一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食； 号角( bugle的名词复数 )； 喇叭； 匍匐筋骨草； （装饰女服用的）柱状玻璃（或塑料）小珠 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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bugler
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| 喇叭手； 号兵； 吹鼓手； 司号员 | |
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22
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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puckering
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的现在分词 )；小褶纹；小褶皱 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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sopping
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| adj. 浑身湿透的 动词sop的现在分词形式 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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72
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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75
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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76
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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77
gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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78
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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82
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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83
sonorously
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| adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；堂皇地；朗朗地 | |
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84
enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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idiomatic
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| adj.成语的，符合语言习惯的 | |
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colloquialism
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| n.俗话，白话，口语 | |
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