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- Стр. 1130/1273
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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
Platón
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
Karatáev
's
absence
at
this
halt
--
and
he
was
on
the
point
of
realizing
that
Karatáev
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
.
"
Brothers
!
Dear
fellows
!
Darlings
!
"
old
soldiers
exclaimed
,
weeping
,
as
they
embraced
Cossacks
and
hussars
.
The
hussars
and
Cossacks
crowded
round
the
prisoners
;
one
offered
them
clothes
,
another
boots
,
and
a
third
bread
.
Pierre
sobbed
as
he
sat
among
them
and
could
not
utter
a
word
.
He
hugged
the
first
soldier
who
approached
him
,
and
kissed
him
,
weeping
.
