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"
Look
out
!
"
he
shouted
,
in
a
voice
plainly
showing
that
he
had
long
fretted
to
utter
that
word
,
and
letting
the
borzois
slip
he
galloped
toward
the
count
.
The
count
and
Simon
galloped
out
of
the
wood
and
saw
on
their
left
a
wolf
which
,
softly
swaying
from
side
to
side
,
was
coming
at
a
quiet
lope
farther
to
the
left
to
the
very
place
where
they
were
standing
.
The
angry
borzois
whined
and
getting
free
of
the
leash
rushed
past
the
horses
'
feet
at
the
wolf
The
wolf
paused
,
turned
its
heavy
forehead
toward
the
dogs
awkwardly
,
like
a
man
suffering
from
the
quinsy
,
and
,
still
slightly
swaying
from
side
to
side
,
gave
a
couple
of
leaps
and
with
a
swish
of
its
tail
disappeared
into
the
skirt
of
the
wood
.
At
the
same
instant
,
with
a
cry
like
a
wail
,
first
one
hound
,
then
another
,
and
then
another
,
sprang
helter-skelter
from
the
wood
opposite
and
the
whole
pack
rushed
across
the
field
toward
the
very
spot
where
the
wolf
had
disappeared
.
The
hazel
bushes
parted
behind
the
hounds
and
Daniel
's
chestnut
horse
appeared
,
dark
with
sweat
.
On
its
long
back
sat
Daniel
,
hunched
forward
,
capless
,
his
disheveled
gray
hair
hanging
over
his
flushed
,
perspiring
face
.
"
Ulyulyulyu
!
ulyulyu
!
...
"
he
cried
.
When
he
caught
sight
of
the
count
his
eyes
flashed
lightning
.
"
Blast
you
!
"
he
shouted
,
holding
up
his
whip
threateningly
at
the
count
.
"
You
've
let
the
wolf
go
!
...
What
sportsmen
!
"
and
as
if
scorning
to
say
more
to
the
frightened
and
shamefaced
count
,
he
lashed
the
heaving
flanks
of
his
sweating
chestnut
gelding
with
all
the
anger
the
count
had
aroused
and
flew
off
after
the
hounds
.
The
count
,
like
a
punished
schoolboy
,
looked
round
,
trying
by
a
smile
to
win
Simon
's
sympathy
for
his
plight
.
But
Simon
was
no
longer
there
.
He
was
galloping
round
by
the
bushes
while
the
field
was
coming
up
on
both
sides
,
all
trying
to
head
the
wolf
,
but
it
vanished
into
the
wood
before
they
could
do
so
.
Nicholas
Rostóv
meanwhile
remained
at
his
post
,
waiting
for
the
wolf
.
By
the
way
the
hunt
approached
and
receded
,
by
the
cries
of
the
dogs
whose
notes
were
familiar
to
him
,
by
the
way
the
voices
of
the
huntsmen
approached
,
receded
,
and
rose
,
he
realized
what
was
happening
at
the
copse
.
He
knew
that
young
and
old
wolves
were
there
,
that
the
hounds
had
separated
into
two
packs
,
that
somewhere
a
wolf
was
being
chased
,
and
that
something
had
gone
wrong
.
He
expected
the
wolf
to
come
his
way
any
moment
.
He
made
thousands
of
different
conjectures
as
to
where
and
from
what
side
the
beast
would
come
and
how
he
would
set
upon
it
.
Hope
alternated
with
despair
.
Several
times
he
addressed
a
prayer
to
God
that
the
wolf
should
come
his
way
.
He
prayed
with
that
passionate
and
shamefaced
feeling
with
which
men
pray
at
moments
of
great
excitement
arising
from
trivial
causes
.
"
What
would
it
be
to
Thee
to
do
this
for
me
?
"
he
said
to
God
.
"
I
know
Thou
art
great
,
and
that
it
is
a
sin
to
ask
this
of
Thee
,
but
for
God
's
sake
do
let
the
old
wolf
come
my
way
and
let
Karáy
spring
at
it
--
in
sight
of
'
Uncle
'
who
is
watching
from
over
there
--
and
seize
it
by
the
throat
in
a
death
grip
!
"
A
thousand
times
during
that
half-hour
Rostóv
cast
eager
and
restless
glances
over
the
edge
of
the
wood
,
with
the
two
scraggy
oaks
rising
above
the
aspen
undergrowth
and
the
gully
with
its
water-worn
side
and
"
Uncle
's
"
cap
just
visible
above
the
bush
on
his
right
.
"
No
,
I
sha
n't
have
such
luck
,
"
thought
Rostóv
,
"
yet
what
would
n't
it
be
worth
!
It
is
not
to
be
!
Everywhere
,
at
cards
and
in
war
,
I
am
always
unlucky
.
"
Memories
of
Austerlitz
and
of
Dólokhov
flashed
rapidly
and
clearly
through
his
mind
.
"
Only
once
in
my
life
to
get
an
old
wolf
,
I
want
only
that
!
"
thought
he
,
straining
eyes
and
ears
and
looking
to
the
left
and
then
to
the
right
and
listening
to
the
slightest
variation
of
note
in
the
cries
of
the
dogs
.
Again
he
looked
to
the
right
and
saw
something
running
toward
him
across
the
deserted
field
.
"
No
,
it
ca
n't
be
!
"
thought
Rostóv
,
taking
a
deep
breath
,
as
a
man
does
at
the
coming
of
something
long
hoped
for
.
The
height
of
happiness
was
reached
--
and
so
simply
,
without
warning
,
or
noise
,
or
display
,
that
Rostóv
could
not
believe
his
eyes
and
remained
in
doubt
for
over
a
second
.
The
wolf
ran
forward
and
jumped
heavily
over
a
gully
that
lay
in
her
path
.
She
was
an
old
animal
with
a
gray
back
and
big
reddish
belly
.
She
ran
without
hurry
,
evidently
feeling
sure
that
no
one
saw
her
.
Rostóv
,
holding
his
breath
,
looked
round
at
the
borzois
.
They
stood
or
lay
not
seeing
the
wolf
or
understanding
the
situation
.
Old
Karáy
had
turned
his
head
and
was
angrily
searching
for
fleas
,
baring
his
yellow
teeth
and
snapping
at
his
hind
legs
.
