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"
Oh
!
Oh
,
ooh
!
"
he
sobbed
,
like
a
woman
.
The
doctor
who
had
been
standing
beside
him
,
preventing
Prince
Andrew
from
seeing
his
face
,
moved
away
.
"
My
God
!
What
is
this
?
Why
is
he
here
?
"
said
Prince
Andrew
to
himself
.
In
the
miserable
,
sobbing
,
enfeebled
man
whose
leg
had
just
been
amputated
,
he
recognized
Anatole
Kurágin
.
Men
were
supporting
him
in
their
arms
and
offering
him
a
glass
of
water
,
but
his
trembling
,
swollen
lips
could
not
grasp
its
rim
.
Anatole
was
sobbing
painfully
.
"
Yes
,
it
is
he
!
Yes
,
that
man
is
somehow
closely
and
painfully
connected
with
me
,
"
thought
Prince
Andrew
,
not
yet
clearly
grasping
what
he
saw
before
him
.
"
What
is
the
connection
of
that
man
with
my
childhood
and
life
?
"
he
asked
himself
without
finding
an
answer
.
And
suddenly
a
new
unexpected
memory
from
that
realm
of
pure
and
loving
childhood
presented
itself
to
him
.
He
remembered
Natásha
as
he
had
seen
her
for
the
first
time
at
the
ball
in
1810
,
with
her
slender
neck
and
arms
and
with
a
frightened
happy
face
ready
for
rapture
,
and
love
and
tenderness
for
her
,
stronger
and
more
vivid
than
ever
,
awoke
in
his
soul
.
He
now
remembered
the
connection
that
existed
between
himself
and
this
man
who
was
dimly
gazing
at
him
through
tears
that
filled
his
swollen
eyes
.
He
remembered
everything
,
and
ecstatic
pity
and
love
for
that
man
overflowed
his
happy
heart
.
Prince
Andrew
could
no
longer
restrain
himself
and
wept
tender
loving
tears
for
his
fellow
men
,
for
himself
,
and
for
his
own
and
their
errors
"
Compassion
,
love
of
our
brothers
,
for
those
who
love
us
and
for
those
who
hate
us
,
love
of
our
enemies
;
yes
,
that
love
which
God
preached
on
earth
and
which
Princess
Mary
taught
me
and
I
did
not
understand
--
that
is
what
made
me
sorry
to
part
with
life
,
that
is
what
remained
for
me
had
I
lived
.
But
now
it
is
too
late
.
I
know
it
!
"
The
terrible
spectacle
of
the
battlefield
covered
with
dead
and
wounded
,
together
with
the
heaviness
of
his
head
and
the
news
that
some
twenty
generals
he
knew
personally
had
been
killed
or
wounded
,
and
the
consciousness
of
the
impotence
of
his
once
mighty
arm
,
produced
an
unexpected
impression
on
Napoleon
who
usually
liked
to
look
at
the
killed
and
wounded
,
thereby
,
he
considered
,
testing
his
strength
of
mind
.
This
day
the
horrible
appearance
of
the
battlefield
overcame
that
strength
of
mind
which
he
thought
constituted
his
merit
and
his
greatness
.
He
rode
hurriedly
from
the
battlefield
and
returned
to
the
Shevárdino
knoll
,
where
he
sat
on
his
campstool
,
his
sallow
face
swollen
and
heavy
,
his
eyes
dim
,
his
nose
red
,
and
his
voice
hoarse
,
involuntarily
listening
,
with
downcast
eyes
,
to
the
sounds
of
firing
.
With
painful
dejection
he
awaited
the
end
of
this
action
,
in
which
he
regarded
himself
as
a
participant
and
which
he
was
unable
to
arrest
.
A
personal
,
human
feeling
for
a
brief
moment
got
the
better
of
the
artificial
phantasm
of
life
he
had
served
so
long
.
He
felt
in
his
own
person
the
sufferings
and
death
he
had
witnessed
on
the
battlefield
.
The
heaviness
of
his
head
and
chest
reminded
him
of
the
possibility
of
suffering
and
death
for
himself
.
At
that
moment
he
did
not
desire
Moscow
,
or
victory
,
or
glory
(
what
need
had
he
for
any
more
glory
?
)
.
The
one
thing
he
wished
for
was
rest
,
tranquillity
,
and
freedom
.
But
when
he
had
been
on
the
Semënovsk
heights
the
artillery
commander
had
proposed
to
him
to
bring
several
batteries
of
artillery
up
to
those
heights
to
strengthen
the
fire
on
the
Russian
troops
crowded
in
front
of
Knyazkóvo
.
Napoleon
had
assented
and
had
given
orders
that
news
should
be
brought
to
him
of
the
effect
those
batteries
produced
.
An
adjutant
came
now
to
inform
him
that
the
fire
of
two
hundred
guns
had
been
concentrated
on
the
Russians
,
as
he
had
ordered
,
but
that
they
still
held
their
ground
.
"
Our
fire
is
mowing
them
down
by
rows
,
but
still
they
hold
on
,
"
said
the
adjutant
.
