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- Стр. 1154/1273
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"
Do
n't
you
like
it
?
"
said
a
laughing
voice
,
and
moderating
their
tones
the
men
moved
forward
.
When
they
were
out
of
the
village
they
began
talking
again
as
loud
as
before
,
interlarding
their
talk
with
the
same
aimless
expletives
.
In
the
hut
which
the
men
had
passed
,
the
chief
officers
had
gathered
and
were
in
animated
talk
over
their
tea
about
the
events
of
the
day
and
the
maneuvers
suggested
for
tomorrow
.
It
was
proposed
to
make
a
flank
march
to
the
left
,
cut
off
the
Vice-King
(
Murat
)
and
capture
him
.
By
the
time
the
soldiers
had
dragged
the
wattle
fence
to
its
place
the
campfires
were
blazing
on
all
sides
ready
for
cooking
,
the
wood
crackled
,
the
snow
was
melting
,
and
black
shadows
of
soldiers
flitted
to
and
fro
all
over
the
occupied
space
where
the
snow
had
been
trodden
down
.
Axes
and
choppers
were
plied
all
around
.
Everything
was
done
without
any
orders
being
given
.
Stores
of
wood
were
brought
for
the
night
,
shelters
were
rigged
up
for
the
officers
,
caldrons
were
being
boiled
,
and
muskets
and
accouterments
put
in
order
The
wattle
wall
the
men
had
brought
was
set
up
in
a
semicircle
by
the
Eighth
Company
as
a
shelter
from
the
north
,
propped
up
by
musket
rests
,
and
a
campfire
was
built
before
it
.
They
beat
the
tattoo
,
called
the
roll
,
had
supper
,
and
settled
down
round
the
fires
for
the
night
--
some
repairing
their
footgear
,
some
smoking
pipes
,
and
some
stripping
themselves
naked
to
steam
the
lice
out
of
their
shirts
.
One
would
have
thought
that
under
the
almost
incredibly
wretched
conditions
the
Russian
soldiers
were
in
at
that
time
--
lacking
warm
boots
and
sheepskin
coats
,
without
a
roof
over
their
heads
,
in
the
snow
with
eighteen
degrees
of
frost
,
and
without
even
full
rations
(
the
commissariat
did
not
always
keep
up
with
the
troops
)
--
they
would
have
presented
a
very
sad
and
depressing
spectacle
.
On
the
contrary
,
the
army
had
never
under
the
best
material
conditions
presented
a
more
cheerful
and
animated
aspect
.
This
was
because
all
who
began
to
grow
depressed
or
who
lost
strength
were
sifted
out
of
the
army
day
by
day
.
All
the
physically
or
morally
weak
had
long
since
been
left
behind
and
only
the
flower
of
the
army
--
physically
and
mentally
--
remained
.
More
men
collected
behind
the
wattle
fence
of
the
Eighth
Company
than
anywhere
else
.
Two
sergeants
major
were
sitting
with
them
and
their
campfire
blazed
brighter
than
others
.
For
leave
to
sit
by
their
wattle
they
demanded
contributions
of
fuel
.
"
Eh
,
Makéev
!
What
has
become
of
you
,
you
son
of
a
bitch
?
Are
you
lost
or
have
the
wolves
eaten
you
?
Fetch
some
more
wood
!
"
shouted
a
red-haired
and
red-faced
man
,
screwing
up
his
eyes
and
blinking
because
of
the
smoke
but
not
moving
back
from
the
fire
.
"
And
you
,
Jackdaw
,
go
and
fetch
some
wood
!
"
said
he
to
another
soldier
.
