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There really were Vanya and Petya, Darya Mihailovna's sons, running along the road; after them walked their tutor, Bassistoff, a young man of two-and-twenty, who had only just left college. Bassistoff was a well-grown youth, with a simple face, a large nose, thick lips, and small pig's eyes, plain and awkward, but kind, good, and upright.
She tried several times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only muttered incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so lighthearted and happy in these novel surroundings that she only feared the trap would come for her too soon.
The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd began to disperse. "There! I said if only we waited and so it was!" was being joyfully said by various people. Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that all the enjoyment of that day was over.
Then why push?" "Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his elbows to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner of the gateway. Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the damp collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a man's.
"I'll call him," said Petya. "Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated. Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said: "Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!" And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut. "Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door.
It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul rode up to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be seen, and Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the glade and were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest where the French could not see the smoke.
While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, said: "The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again." The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, rose and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, rushed toward the balcony. "Angel! Dear one! Hurrah!
After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's attack, which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he seemed to have definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and rode back. "Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya. As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into the forest.
"I see you were right, but just take out the top one." "I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand holding back the hair that hung over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down the carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she cried. The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands, screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes.
But within the Trinity Gateway he was so pressed to the wall by people who probably were unaware of the patriotic intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in, rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier.
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