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The
French
had
fallen
behind
,
and
just
as
he
looked
round
the
first
man
changed
his
run
to
a
walk
and
,
turning
,
shouted
something
loudly
to
a
comrade
farther
back
.
Rostóv
paused
.
"
No
,
there
's
some
mistake
,
"
thought
he
.
"
They
ca
n't
have
wanted
to
kill
me
.
"
But
at
the
same
time
,
his
left
arm
felt
as
heavy
as
if
a
seventy-pound
weight
were
tied
to
it
.
He
could
run
no
more
.
The
Frenchman
also
stopped
and
took
aim
.
Rostóv
closed
his
eyes
and
stooped
down
.
One
bullet
and
then
another
whistled
past
him
.
He
mustered
his
last
remaining
strength
,
took
hold
of
his
left
hand
with
his
right
,
and
reached
the
bushes
.
Behind
these
were
some
Russian
sharpshooters
.
The
infantry
regiments
that
had
been
caught
unawares
in
the
outskirts
of
the
wood
ran
out
of
it
,
the
different
companies
getting
mixed
,
and
retreated
as
a
disorderly
crowd
.
One
soldier
,
in
his
fear
,
uttered
the
senseless
cry
,
"
Cut
off
!
"
that
is
so
terrible
in
battle
,
and
that
word
infected
the
whole
crowd
with
a
feeling
of
panic
.
"
Surrounded
!
Cut
off
?
We
're
lost
!
"
shouted
the
fugitives
.
The
moment
he
heard
the
firing
and
the
cry
from
behind
,
the
general
realized
that
something
dreadful
had
happened
to
his
regiment
,
and
the
thought
that
he
,
an
exemplary
officer
of
many
years
'
service
who
had
never
been
to
blame
,
might
be
held
responsible
at
headquarters
for
negligence
or
inefficiency
so
staggered
him
that
,
forgetting
the
recalcitrant
cavalry
colonel
,
his
own
dignity
as
a
general
,
and
above
all
quite
forgetting
the
danger
and
all
regard
for
self-preservation
,
he
clutched
the
crupper
of
his
saddle
and
,
spurring
his
horse
,
galloped
to
the
regiment
under
a
hail
of
bullets
which
fell
around
,
but
fortunately
missed
him
.
His
one
desire
was
to
know
what
was
happening
and
at
any
cost
correct
,
or
remedy
,
the
mistake
if
he
had
made
one
,
so
that
he
,
an
exemplary
officer
of
twenty-two
years
'
service
,
who
had
never
been
censured
,
should
not
be
held
to
blame
.
Having
galloped
safely
through
the
French
,
he
reached
a
field
behind
the
copse
across
which
our
men
,
regardless
of
orders
,
were
running
and
descending
the
valley
.
That
moment
of
moral
hesitation
which
decides
the
fate
of
battles
had
arrived
.
Would
this
disorderly
crowd
of
soldiers
attend
to
the
voice
of
their
commander
,
or
would
they
,
disregarding
him
,
continue
their
flight
?
Despite
his
desperate
shouts
that
used
to
seem
so
terrible
to
the
soldiers
,
despite
his
furious
purple
countenance
distorted
out
of
all
likeness
to
his
former
self
,
and
the
flourishing
of
his
saber
,
the
soldiers
all
continued
to
run
,
talking
,
firing
into
the
air
,
and
disobeying
orders
.
The
moral
hesitation
which
decided
the
fate
of
battles
was
evidently
culminating
in
a
panic
.
The
general
had
a
fit
of
coughing
as
a
result
of
shouting
and
of
the
powder
smoke
and
stopped
in
despair
.
Everything
seemed
lost
.
But
at
that
moment
the
French
who
were
attacking
,
suddenly
and
without
any
apparent
reason
,
ran
back
and
disappeared
from
the
outskirts
,
and
Russian
sharpshooters
showed
themselves
in
the
copse
.
It
was
Timókhin
's
company
,
which
alone
had
maintained
its
order
in
the
wood
and
,
having
lain
in
ambush
in
a
ditch
,
now
attacked
the
French
unexpectedly
.
Timókhin
,
armed
only
with
a
sword
,
had
rushed
at
the
enemy
with
such
a
desperate
cry
and
such
mad
,
drunken
determination
that
,
taken
by
surprise
,
the
French
had
thrown
down
their
muskets
and
run
.
Dólokhov
,
running
beside
Timókhin
,
killed
a
Frenchman
at
close
quarters
and
was
the
first
to
seize
the
surrendering
French
officer
by
his
collar
.
Our
fugitives
returned
,
the
battalions
re-formed
,
and
the
French
who
had
nearly
cut
our
left
flank
in
half
were
for
the
moment
repulsed
.
Our
reserve
units
were
able
to
join
up
,
and
the
fight
was
at
an
end
.
The
regimental
commander
and
Major
Ekonómov
had
stopped
beside
a
bridge
,
letting
the
retreating
companies
pass
by
them
,
when
a
soldier
came
up
and
took
hold
of
the
commander
's
stirrup
,
almost
leaning
against
him
.
The
man
was
wearing
a
bluish
coat
of
broadcloth
,
he
had
no
knapsack
or
cap
,
his
head
was
bandaged
,
and
over
his
shoulder
a
French
munition
pouch
was
slung
.
He
had
an
officer
's
sword
in
his
hand
.
The
soldier
was
pale
,
his
blue
eyes
looked
impudently
into
the
commander
's
face
,
and
his
lips
were
smiling
.
Though
the
commander
was
occupied
in
giving
instructions
to
Major
Ekonómov
,
he
could
not
help
taking
notice
of
the
soldier
.
"
Your
excellency
,
here
are
two
trophies
,
"
said
Dólokhov
,
pointing
to
the
French
sword
and
pouch
.
"
I
have
taken
an
officer
prisoner
.
I
stopped
the
company
.
"
Dólokhov
breathed
heavily
from
weariness
and
spoke
in
abrupt
sentences
.
"
The
whole
company
can
bear
witness
.
I
beg
you
will
remember
this
,
your
excellency
!
"
"
All
right
,
all
right
,
"
replied
the
commander
,
and
turned
to
Major
Ekonómov
.
