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With
the
self-satisfaction
of
a
man
on
parade
,
he
stepped
lightly
with
his
muscular
legs
as
if
sailing
along
,
stretching
himself
to
his
full
height
without
the
smallest
effort
,
his
ease
contrasting
with
the
heavy
tread
of
the
soldiers
who
were
keeping
step
with
him
.
He
carried
close
to
his
leg
a
narrow
unsheathed
sword
(
small
,
curved
,
and
not
like
a
real
weapon
)
and
looked
now
at
the
superior
officers
and
now
back
at
the
men
without
losing
step
,
his
whole
powerful
body
turning
flexibly
.
It
was
as
if
all
the
powers
of
his
soul
were
concentrated
on
passing
the
commander
in
the
best
possible
manner
,
and
feeling
that
he
was
doing
it
well
he
was
happy
.
"
Left
...
left
...
left
...
"
he
seemed
to
repeat
to
himself
at
each
alternate
step
;
and
in
time
to
this
,
with
stern
but
varied
faces
,
the
wall
of
soldiers
burdened
with
knapsacks
and
muskets
marched
in
step
,
and
each
one
of
these
hundreds
of
soldiers
seemed
to
be
repeating
to
himself
at
each
alternate
step
,
"
Left
...
left
...
left
...
"
A
fat
major
skirted
a
bush
,
puffing
and
falling
out
of
step
;
a
soldier
who
had
fallen
behind
,
his
face
showing
alarm
at
his
defection
,
ran
at
a
trot
,
panting
to
catch
up
with
his
company
.
A
cannon
ball
,
cleaving
the
air
,
flew
over
the
heads
of
Bagratión
and
his
suite
,
and
fell
into
the
column
to
the
measure
of
"
Left
...
left
!
"
"
Close
up
!
"
came
the
company
commander
's
voice
in
jaunty
tones
.
The
soldiers
passed
in
a
semicircle
round
something
where
the
ball
had
fallen
,
and
an
old
trooper
on
the
flank
,
a
noncommissioned
officer
who
had
stopped
beside
the
dead
men
,
ran
to
catch
up
his
line
and
,
falling
into
step
with
a
hop
,
looked
back
angrily
,
and
through
the
ominous
silence
and
the
regular
tramp
of
feet
beating
the
ground
in
unison
,
one
seemed
to
hear
left
...
left
...
left
.
"
Well
done
,
lads
!
"
said
Prince
Bagratión
.
"
Glad
to
do
our
best
,
your
ex
'
len-lency
!
"
came
a
confused
shout
from
the
ranks
.
A
morose
soldier
marching
on
the
left
turned
his
eyes
on
Bagratión
as
he
shouted
,
with
an
expression
that
seemed
to
say
:
"
We
know
that
ourselves
!
"
Another
,
without
looking
round
,
as
though
fearing
to
relax
,
shouted
with
his
mouth
wide
open
and
passed
on
.
The
order
was
given
to
halt
and
down
knapsacks
.
Bagratión
rode
round
the
ranks
that
had
marched
past
him
and
dismounted
.
He
gave
the
reins
to
a
Cossack
,
took
off
and
handed
over
his
felt
coat
,
stretched
his
legs
,
and
set
his
cap
straight
.
The
head
of
the
French
column
,
with
its
officers
leading
,
appeared
from
below
the
hill
.
"
Forward
,
with
God
!
"
said
Bagratión
,
in
a
resolute
,
sonorous
voice
,
turning
for
a
moment
to
the
front
line
,
and
slightly
swinging
his
arms
,
he
went
forward
uneasily
over
the
rough
field
with
the
awkward
gait
of
a
cavalryman
.
Prince
Andrew
felt
that
an
invisible
power
was
leading
him
forward
,
and
experienced
great
happiness
.
The
French
were
already
near
.
Prince
Andrew
,
walking
beside
Bagratión
,
could
clearly
distinguish
their
bandoliers
,
red
epaulets
,
and
even
their
faces
.
(
He
distinctly
saw
an
old
French
officer
who
,
with
gaitered
legs
and
turned-out
toes
,
climbed
the
hill
with
difficulty
.
)
Prince
Bagratión
gave
no
further
orders
and
silently
continued
to
walk
on
in
front
of
the
ranks
.
Suddenly
one
shot
after
another
rang
out
from
the
French
,
smoke
appeared
all
along
their
uneven
ranks
,
and
musket
shots
sounded
.
Several
of
our
men
fell
,
among
them
the
round-faced
officer
who
had
marched
so
gaily
and
complacently
But
at
the
moment
the
first
report
was
heard
,
Bagratión
looked
round
and
shouted
,
"
Hurrah
!
"
"
Hurrah
--
ah
!
--
ah
!
"
rang
a
long-drawn
shout
from
our
ranks
,
and
passing
Bagratión
and
racing
one
another
they
rushed
in
an
irregular
but
joyous
and
eager
crowd
down
the
hill
at
their
disordered
foe
.
