There's nothing to be happy about!" thought he. Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude. "My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my brain is the only thing left me not singing!" his thoughts ran on. "Go away? But where to? It's one let them sing!" He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the girls and avoiding their eyes.
Oh, these insufferable streets, shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov, when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had entered Moscow. "Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with his whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed of the sleigh. Denisov gave no answer.
His eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared now the Emperor, now Denisov, and now Moscow memories and he again hurriedly opened his eyes and saw close before him the head and ears of the horse he was riding, and sometimes, when he came within six paces of them, the black figures of hussars, but in the distance was still the same misty darkness.
But he fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it would seem ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy. The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the drummer boy, to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, and whom he had had dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept with their band and not sent away with the other prisoners.
Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear of putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon Shcherbaty, a peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at least one of the French quartermasters who had been sent on in advance. It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both the color of muddy water.
You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry officer, raising his voice. "Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing his temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the officers. "Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not riding away.
Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer room, with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder brother, and forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see men undressed, opened the bedroom door. "Is this your saber?" he shouted. The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the blanket, looking with a scared face at his comrade for help.
When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned uniform of his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and saw the picket ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully shouted to his master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been asleep on his bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace him, and the officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov experienced the same feeling as when his mother, his father, and his sister had embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not speak.
All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with Denisov as befitted a grownup man and an officer without hinting at their previous acquaintance.
Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and feeling himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a frowning but blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed it. "Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor. "My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the fire this instant!" thought Rostov.
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