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Updated: June 14, 2025
After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow, without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room. Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever.
But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully showed them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental commander in which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence.
Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and instantly dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested somewhere below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not draw breath. "And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant and yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka.
'There are a lot of us, he says, 'but all poor stuff only soldiers in name, he says. 'Shout loud at them, he says, 'and you'll take them all," Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into Denisov's eyes. "I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes that'll teach you to play the fool!" said Denisov severely.
Denisov had Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, said a few words in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and the country and the hatred of the French that all sons of the fatherland should cherish. "We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened by Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you know!
Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler, showed one common expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement, around chin and mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the soldiers as if threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every time a ball flew past.
And Nicholas, who had vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent that happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed. "Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted Denisov, who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some food. The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking. "There!
In the passage of the small watchhouse a Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some mutton. In the room three officers of Denisov's band were converting a door into a tabletop. Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to be dried, and at once began helping the officers to fix up the dinner table. In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it.
There was a masculine odor and a smell of tobacco. "Hallo, Gwiska my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. "Wostov, get up!" Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his disheveled head from the hot pillow. "Why, is it late?" "Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice.
For the Rostov family the whole interest of these preparations for war lay in the fact that Nicholas would not hear of remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the termination of Denisov's furlough after Christmas to return with him to their regiment. His approaching departure did not prevent his amusing himself, but rather gave zest to his pleasures.
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