-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Лев Толстой
-
- Война и мир
-
- Стр. 956/1273
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
A
few
minutes
later
an
officer
came
hurriedly
out
of
the
front
door
,
gave
an
order
,
and
the
dragoons
formed
up
in
line
.
The
crowd
moved
eagerly
from
the
balcony
toward
the
porch
.
Rostopchín
,
coming
out
there
with
quick
angry
steps
,
looked
hastily
around
as
if
seeking
someone
.
"
Where
is
he
?
"
he
inquired
.
And
as
he
spoke
he
saw
a
young
man
coming
round
the
corner
of
the
house
between
two
dragoons
.
He
had
a
long
thin
neck
,
and
his
head
,
that
had
been
half
shaved
,
was
again
covered
by
short
hair
.
This
young
man
was
dressed
in
a
threadbare
blue
cloth
coat
lined
with
fox
fur
,
that
had
once
been
smart
,
and
dirty
hempen
convict
trousers
,
over
which
were
pulled
his
thin
,
dirty
,
trodden-down
boots
.
On
his
thin
,
weak
legs
were
heavy
chains
which
hampered
his
irresolute
movements
.
"
Ah
!
"
said
Rostopchín
,
hurriedly
turning
away
his
eyes
from
the
young
man
in
the
fur-lined
coat
and
pointing
to
the
bottom
step
of
the
porch
.
"
Put
him
there
.
"
The
young
man
in
his
clattering
chains
stepped
clumsily
to
the
spot
indicated
,
holding
away
with
one
finger
the
coat
collar
which
chafed
his
neck
,
turned
his
long
neck
twice
this
way
and
that
,
sighed
,
and
submissively
folded
before
him
his
thin
hands
,
unused
to
work
.
For
several
seconds
while
the
young
man
was
taking
his
place
on
the
step
the
silence
continued
.
Only
among
the
back
rows
of
the
people
,
who
were
all
pressing
toward
the
one
spot
,
could
sighs
,
groans
,
and
the
shuffling
of
feet
be
heard
.
While
waiting
for
the
young
man
to
take
his
place
on
the
step
Rostopchín
stood
frowning
and
rubbing
his
face
with
his
hand
.
"
Lads
!
"
said
he
,
with
a
metallic
ring
in
his
voice
.
"
This
man
,
Vereshchágin
,
is
the
scoundrel
by
whose
doing
Moscow
is
perishing
.
"
The
young
man
in
the
fur-lined
coat
,
stooping
a
little
,
stood
in
a
submissive
attitude
,
his
fingers
clasped
before
him
.
His
emaciated
young
face
,
disfigured
by
the
half-shaven
head
,
hung
down
hopelessly
.
At
the
count
's
first
words
he
raised
it
slowly
and
looked
up
at
him
as
if
wishing
to
say
something
or
at
least
to
meet
his
eye
.
But
Rostopchín
did
not
look
at
him
.
A
vein
in
the
young
man
's
long
thin
neck
swelled
like
a
cord
and
went
blue
behind
the
ear
,
and
suddenly
his
face
flushed
.
