BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
8. CHAPTER VIII
(continued)
"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently
meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat
we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest
man."
"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social
position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and
better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my
men are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them."
"There now!" said one of the soldiers.
Another shook his head.
"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and
handed Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean.
Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they
called the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than
any food he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it,
helping himself to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another,
his was lit up by the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence.
"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them.
"To Mozhaysk."
"You're a gentleman, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And what's your name?"
"Peter Kirilych."
"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you
there."
In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk.
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