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"
And
how
we
've
been
begging
,
your
honor
,
"
said
the
old
soldier
,
his
jaw
quivering
.
"
He
's
been
dead
since
morning
.
After
all
we
're
men
,
not
dogs
.
"
"
I
'll
send
someone
at
once
.
He
shall
be
taken
away
--
taken
away
at
once
,
"
said
the
assistant
hurriedly
.
"
Let
us
go
,
your
honor
.
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
let
us
go
,
"
said
Rostóv
hastily
,
and
lowering
his
eyes
and
shrinking
,
he
tried
to
pass
unnoticed
between
the
rows
of
reproachful
envious
eyes
that
were
fixed
upon
him
,
and
went
out
of
the
room
.
Going
along
the
corridor
,
the
assistant
led
Rostóv
to
the
officers
'
wards
,
consisting
of
three
rooms
,
the
doors
of
which
stood
open
.
There
were
beds
in
these
rooms
and
the
sick
and
wounded
officers
were
lying
or
sitting
on
them
.
Some
were
walking
about
the
rooms
in
hospital
dressing
gowns
.
The
first
person
Rostóv
met
in
the
officers
'
ward
was
a
thin
little
man
with
one
arm
,
who
was
walking
about
the
first
room
in
a
nightcap
and
hospital
dressing
gown
,
with
a
pipe
between
his
teeth
.
Rostóv
looked
at
him
,
trying
to
remember
where
he
had
seen
him
before
.
"
See
where
we
've
met
again
!
"
said
the
little
man
.
"
Túshin
,
Túshin
,
do
n't
you
remember
,
who
gave
you
a
lift
at
Schön
Grabern
?
And
I
've
had
a
bit
cut
off
,
you
see
...
"
he
went
on
with
a
smile
,
pointing
to
the
empty
sleeve
of
his
dressing
gown
.
"
Looking
for
Vasíli
Dmítrich
Denísov
?
My
neighbor
,
"
he
added
,
when
he
heard
who
Rostóv
wanted
.
"
Here
,
here
,
"
and
Túshin
led
him
into
the
next
room
,
from
whence
came
sounds
of
several
laughing
voices
.
"
How
can
they
laugh
,
or
even
live
at
all
here
?
"
thought
Rostóv
,
still
aware
of
that
smell
of
decomposing
flesh
that
had
been
so
strong
in
the
soldiers
'
ward
,
and
still
seeming
to
see
fixed
on
him
those
envious
looks
which
had
followed
him
out
from
both
sides
,
and
the
face
of
that
young
soldier
with
eyes
rolled
back
.
Denísov
lay
asleep
on
his
bed
with
his
head
under
the
blanket
,
though
it
was
nearly
noon
.
"
Ah
,
Wostóv
?
How
are
you
,
how
are
you
?
"
he
called
out
,
still
in
the
same
voice
as
in
the
regiment
,
but
Rostóv
noticed
sadly
that
under
this
habitual
ease
and
animation
some
new
,
sinister
,
hidden
feeling
showed
itself
in
the
expression
of
Denísov
's
face
and
the
intonations
of
his
voice
.
His
wound
,
though
a
slight
one
,
had
not
yet
healed
even
now
,
six
weeks
after
he
had
been
hit
.
His
face
had
the
same
swollen
pallor
as
the
faces
of
the
other
hospital
patients
,
but
it
was
not
this
that
struck
Rostóv
.
What
struck
him
was
that
Denísov
did
not
seem
glad
to
see
him
,
and
smiled
at
him
unnaturally
.
He
did
not
ask
about
the
regiment
,
nor
about
the
general
state
of
affairs
,
and
when
Rostóv
spoke
of
these
matters
did
not
listen
.
Rostóv
even
noticed
that
Denísov
did
not
like
to
be
reminded
of
the
regiment
,
or
in
general
of
that
other
free
life
which
was
going
on
outside
the
hospital
.
He
seemed
to
try
to
forget
that
old
life
and
was
only
interested
in
the
affair
with
the
commissariat
officers
.
On
Rostóv
's
inquiry
as
to
how
the
matter
stood
,
he
at
once
produced
from
under
his
pillow
a
paper
he
had
received
from
the
commission
and
the
rough
draft
of
his
answer
to
it
.
He
became
animated
when
he
began
reading
his
paper
and
specially
drew
Rostóv
's
attention
to
the
stinging
rejoinders
he
made
to
his
enemies
.
His
hospital
companions
,
who
had
gathered
round
Rostóv
--
a
fresh
arrival
from
the
world
outside
--
gradually
began
to
disperse
as
soon
as
Denísov
began
reading
his
answer
.
Rostóv
noticed
by
their
faces
that
all
those
gentlemen
had
already
heard
that
story
more
than
once
and
were
tired
of
it
.
