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"
It
's
the
enemy
?
...
No
!
...
Yes
,
see
it
is
!
...
for
certain
...
But
how
is
that
?
"
said
different
voices
.
With
the
naked
eye
Prince
Andrew
saw
below
them
to
the
right
,
not
more
than
five
hundred
paces
from
where
Kutúzov
was
standing
,
a
dense
French
column
coming
up
to
meet
the
Ápsherons
.
"
Here
it
is
!
The
decisive
moment
has
arrived
.
My
turn
has
come
,
"
thought
Prince
Andrew
,
and
striking
his
horse
he
rode
up
to
Kutúzov
.
"
The
Ápsherons
must
be
stopped
,
your
excellency
,
"
cried
he
.
But
at
that
very
instant
a
cloud
of
smoke
spread
all
round
,
firing
was
heard
quite
close
at
hand
,
and
a
voice
of
naïve
terror
barely
two
steps
from
Prince
Andrew
shouted
,
"
Brothers
!
All
's
lost
!
"
And
at
this
as
if
at
a
command
,
everyone
began
to
run
.
Confused
and
ever-increasing
crowds
were
running
back
to
where
five
minutes
before
the
troops
had
passed
the
Emperors
.
Not
only
would
it
have
been
difficult
to
stop
that
crowd
,
it
was
even
impossible
not
to
be
carried
back
with
it
oneself
.
Bolkónski
only
tried
not
to
lose
touch
with
it
,
and
looked
around
bewildered
and
unable
to
grasp
what
was
happening
in
front
of
him
.
Nesvítski
with
an
angry
face
,
red
and
unlike
himself
,
was
shouting
to
Kutúzov
that
if
he
did
not
ride
away
at
once
he
would
certainly
be
taken
prisoner
.
Kutúzov
remained
in
the
same
place
and
without
answering
drew
out
a
handkerchief
.
Blood
was
flowing
from
his
cheek
.
Prince
Andrew
forced
his
way
to
him
.
"
You
are
wounded
?
"
he
asked
,
hardly
able
to
master
the
trembling
of
his
lower
jaw
.
"
The
wound
is
not
here
,
it
is
there
!
"
said
Kutúzov
,
pressing
the
handkerchief
to
his
wounded
cheek
and
pointing
to
the
fleeing
soldiers
.
"
Stop
them
!
"
he
shouted
,
and
at
the
same
moment
,
probably
realizing
that
it
was
impossible
to
stop
them
,
spurred
his
horse
and
rode
to
the
right
.
A
fresh
wave
of
the
flying
mob
caught
him
and
bore
him
back
with
it
.
The
troops
were
running
in
such
a
dense
mass
that
once
surrounded
by
them
it
was
difficult
to
get
out
again
.
