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"
Thrice
have
they
slain
me
,
thrice
have
I
risen
from
the
dead
.
They
stoned
me
,
crucified
me
...
I
shall
rise
...
shall
rise
...
shall
rise
.
They
have
torn
my
body
.
The
kingdom
of
God
will
be
overthrown
...
Thrice
will
I
overthrow
it
and
thrice
re-establish
it
!
"
he
cried
,
raising
his
voice
higher
and
higher
.
Count
Rostopchín
suddenly
grew
pale
as
he
had
done
when
the
crowd
closed
in
on
Vereshchágin
.
He
turned
away
.
"
Go
fas
...
faster
!
"
he
cried
in
a
trembling
voice
to
his
coachman
.
The
calèche
flew
over
the
ground
as
fast
as
the
horses
could
draw
it
,
but
for
a
long
time
Count
Rostopchín
still
heard
the
insane
despairing
screams
growing
fainter
in
the
distance
,
while
his
eyes
saw
nothing
but
the
astonished
,
frightened
,
bloodstained
face
of
"
the
traitor
"
in
the
fur-lined
coat
.
Recent
as
that
mental
picture
was
,
Rostopchín
already
felt
that
it
had
cut
deep
into
his
heart
and
drawn
blood
.
Even
now
he
felt
clearly
that
the
gory
trace
of
that
recollection
would
not
pass
with
time
,
but
that
the
terrible
memory
would
,
on
the
contrary
,
dwell
in
his
heart
ever
more
cruelly
and
painfully
to
the
end
of
his
life
.
He
seemed
still
to
hear
the
sound
of
his
own
words
:
"
Cut
him
down
!
I
command
it
...
"
"
Why
did
I
utter
those
words
?
It
was
by
some
accident
I
said
them
...
I
need
not
have
said
them
,
"
he
thought
.
"
And
then
nothing
would
have
happened
.
"
He
saw
the
frightened
and
then
infuriated
face
of
the
dragoon
who
dealt
the
blow
,
the
look
of
silent
,
timid
reproach
that
boy
in
the
fur-lined
coat
had
turned
upon
him
.
"
But
I
did
not
do
it
for
my
own
sake
.
I
was
bound
to
act
that
way
...
The
mob
,
the
traitor
.
.
the
public
welfare
,
"
thought
he
.
Troops
were
still
crowding
at
the
Yaúza
bridge
.
It
was
hot
.
Kutúzov
,
dejected
and
frowning
,
sat
on
a
bench
by
the
bridge
toying
with
his
whip
in
the
sand
when
a
calèche
dashed
up
noisily
.
A
man
in
a
general
's
uniform
with
plumes
in
his
hat
went
up
to
Kutúzov
and
said
something
in
French
.
It
was
Count
Rostopchín
.
He
told
Kutúzov
that
he
had
come
because
Moscow
,
the
capital
,
was
no
more
and
only
the
army
remained
.
"
Things
would
have
been
different
if
your
Serene
Highness
had
not
told
me
that
you
would
not
abandon
Moscow
without
another
battle
;
all
this
would
not
have
happened
,
"
he
said
.
Kutúzov
looked
at
Rostopchín
as
if
,
not
grasping
what
was
said
to
him
,
he
was
trying
to
read
something
peculiar
written
at
that
moment
on
the
face
of
the
man
addressing
him
.
Rostopchín
grew
confused
and
became
silent
.
Kutúzov
slightly
shook
his
head
and
not
taking
his
penetrating
gaze
from
Rostopchín
's
face
muttered
softly
:
"
No
!
I
shall
not
give
up
Moscow
without
a
battle
!
"
Whether
Kutúzov
was
thinking
of
something
entirely
different
when
he
spoke
those
words
,
or
uttered
them
purposely
,
knowing
them
to
be
meaningless
,
at
any
rate
Rostopchín
made
no
reply
and
hastily
left
him
.
And
strange
to
say
,
the
Governor
of
Moscow
,
the
proud
Count
Rostopchín
,
took
up
a
Cossack
whip
and
went
to
the
bridge
where
he
began
with
shouts
to
drive
on
the
carts
that
blocked
the
way
.
