-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Лев Толстой
-
- Война и мир
-
- Стр. 1075/1273
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
When
on
the
first
day
he
got
up
early
,
went
out
of
the
shed
at
dawn
,
and
saw
the
cupolas
and
crosses
of
the
New
Convent
of
the
Virgin
still
dark
at
first
,
the
hoarfrost
on
the
dusty
grass
,
the
Sparrow
Hills
,
and
the
wooded
banks
above
the
winding
river
vanishing
in
the
purple
distance
,
when
he
felt
the
contact
of
the
fresh
air
and
heard
the
noise
of
the
crows
flying
from
Moscow
across
the
field
,
and
when
afterwards
light
gleamed
from
the
east
and
the
sun
's
rim
appeared
solemnly
from
behind
a
cloud
,
and
the
cupolas
and
crosses
,
the
hoarfrost
,
the
distance
and
the
river
,
all
began
to
sparkle
in
the
glad
light
--
Pierre
felt
a
new
joy
and
strength
in
life
such
as
he
had
never
before
known
.
And
this
not
only
stayed
with
him
during
the
whole
of
his
imprisonment
,
but
even
grew
in
strength
as
the
hardships
of
his
position
increased
.
That
feeling
of
alertness
and
of
readiness
for
anything
was
still
further
strengthened
in
him
by
the
high
opinion
his
fellow
prisoners
formed
of
him
soon
after
his
arrival
at
the
shed
.
With
his
knowledge
of
languages
,
the
respect
shown
him
by
the
French
,
his
simplicity
,
his
readiness
to
give
anything
asked
of
him
(
he
received
the
allowance
of
three
rubles
a
week
made
to
officers
)
;
with
his
strength
,
which
he
showed
to
the
soldiers
by
pressing
nails
into
the
walls
of
the
hut
;
his
gentleness
to
his
companions
,
and
his
capacity
for
sitting
still
and
thinking
without
doing
anything
(
which
seemed
to
them
incomprehensible
)
,
he
appeared
to
them
a
rather
mysterious
and
superior
being
The
very
qualities
that
had
been
a
hindrance
,
if
not
actually
harmful
,
to
him
in
the
world
he
had
lived
in
--
his
strength
,
his
disdain
for
the
comforts
of
life
,
his
absent-mindedness
and
simplicity
--
here
among
these
people
gave
him
almost
the
status
of
a
hero
.
And
Pierre
felt
that
their
opinion
placed
responsibilities
upon
him
.
The
French
evacuation
began
on
the
night
between
the
sixth
and
seventh
of
October
:
kitchens
and
sheds
were
dismantled
,
carts
loaded
,
and
troops
and
baggage
trains
started
.
At
seven
in
the
morning
a
French
convoy
in
marching
trim
,
wearing
shakos
and
carrying
muskets
,
knapsacks
,
and
enormous
sacks
,
stood
in
front
of
the
sheds
,
and
animated
French
talk
mingled
with
curses
sounded
all
along
the
lines
.
In
the
shed
everyone
was
ready
,
dressed
,
belted
,
shod
,
and
only
awaited
the
order
to
start
.
The
sick
soldier
,
Sokolóv
,
pale
and
thin
with
dark
shadows
round
his
eyes
,
alone
sat
in
his
place
barefoot
and
not
dressed
.
His
eyes
,
prominent
from
the
emaciation
of
his
face
,
gazed
inquiringly
at
his
comrades
who
were
paying
no
attention
to
him
,
and
he
moaned
regularly
and
quietly
.
It
was
evidently
not
so
much
his
sufferings
that
caused
him
to
moan
(
he
had
dysentery
)
as
his
fear
and
grief
at
being
left
alone
.
Pierre
,
girt
with
a
rope
round
his
waist
and
wearing
shoes
Karatáev
had
made
for
him
from
some
leather
a
French
soldier
had
torn
off
a
tea
chest
and
brought
to
have
his
boots
mended
with
,
went
up
to
the
sick
man
and
squatted
down
beside
him
.
"
You
know
,
Sokolóv
,
they
are
not
all
going
away
!
They
have
a
hospital
here
.
You
may
be
better
off
than
we
others
,
"
said
Pierre
.
"
O
Lord
!
Oh
,
it
will
be
the
death
of
me
!
O
Lord
!
"
moaned
the
man
in
a
louder
voice
.
"
I
'll
go
and
ask
them
again
directly
,
"
said
Pierre
,
rising
and
going
to
the
door
of
the
shed
.
