BOOK NINE: 1812
12. CHAPTER XII
(continued)
Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke
grandiloquently of the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and
of how a deed worthy of antiquity had been performed by General
Raevski. He recounted how Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam
under terrific fire and had charged with them beside him. Rostov heard
the story and not only said nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's
enthusiasm but, on the contrary, looked like a man ashamed of what
he was hearing, though with no intention of contradicting it. Since
the campaigns of Austerlitz and of 1807 Rostov knew by experience that
men always lie when describing military exploits, as he himself had
done when recounting them; besides that, he had experience enough to
know that nothing happens in war at all as we can imagine or relate
it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's tale, nor did he like
Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches extending over his
cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was his habit, and
crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him in
silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion
and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did
lead his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on
some dozen men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have
seen how or with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who
did see it would not have been much stimulated by it, for what had
they to do with Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own
skins were in danger? And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did
not depend on whether they took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are
told was the case at Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a
sacrifice? And why expose his own children in the battle? I would
not have taken my brother Petya there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger
to me but a nice lad, but would have tried to put them somewhere under
cover," Nicholas continued to think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But
he did not express his thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had
gained experience. He knew that this tale redounded to the glory of
our arms and so one had to pretend not to doubt it. And he acted
accordingly.
"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov
did not relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt...
and the water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The
rain seems less heavy."
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