Doorphone Rostov turned away

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Because their guns had been brought up and they had some one to fire at. The French had time to fire three volleys of grape-shot before the hussars got back to their horses. Two were badly aimed, and the shot flew over them, but the last volley fell in the middle of the group of hussars and knocked down three men. Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanitch, stepped on the bridge, not knowing what he had to do.

There was no one to slash at with his sword that was how he always pictured a battle to himself, and he could be of no use in burning the bridge, because he had not brought with him any wisps of straw, like the other soldiers. He stood and looked about him, when suddenly there was a rattle on the bridge, like a lot of nuts being scattered, and one of the hussars, the one standing nearest him, fell with a groan on the railing.


Rostov ran up to him with the others. Again some one shouted. Stretchers! Four men took hold of the hussar and began lifting him up. Oooo! Let me be, for Christ's sake! shrieked the wounded man, but still they lifted him up and laid him on a stretcher. Doorphone Rostov turned away, and began staring into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, at the sun, as though he were searching for something. How fair that sky seemed, how blue and calm and deep. How doorphone