BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812
15. CHAPTER XV
(continued)
He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a
Russian soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting
a piece of meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and
his sinewy, hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned
the ramrod. His brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly
visible by the glow of the charcoal.
"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a
soldier who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!"
And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned
away and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier
the Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting
something with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the
blue-gray dog, sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail.
"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not
finish.
Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his
fancy- of the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of
the shot heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty
faces of the two Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and
smoking gun, and of Karataev's absence at this halt- and he was on the
point of realizing that Karataev had been killed, but just at that
instant, he knew not why, the recollection came to his mind of a
summer evening he had spent with a beautiful Polish lady on the
veranda of his house in Kiev. And without linking up the events of the
day or drawing a conclusion from them, Pierre closed his eyes,
seeing a vision of the country in summertime mingled with memories
of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating globe, and he sank into
water so that it closed over his head.
Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid
firing. French soldiers were running past him.
"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of
Russians surrounded Pierre.
For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him.
All around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy.
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