War and Peace: Original Version. Лев Толстой

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      The Pavlograd Hussars Regiment was stationed two miles from Braunau. The squadron in which Nikolai Rostov was serving as a cadet was located in the German village of Salzenek. The squadron commander, Captain Denisov, known to the entire cavalry division by the name of Vaska Denisov, had been allocated the best quarters in the village. Cadet Rostov had been living with the squadron commander since he overtook the regiment in Poland.

      On the 8th of October, the same day when, at general headquarters, everyone was spurred into action by the news of Mack’s defeat, life at the squadron headquarters continued calmly in the same way as usual. Denisov, who had spent the entire night playing cards, was still asleep when Rostov returned on horseback early in the morning. In breeches and a hussar’s jacket, Rostov rode up to the porch and, giving his horse a pat, flung one leg over its back with a fluid, youthful movement, standing in the stirrup for a moment, as though not wishing to be parted from his horse, before finally jumping down and turning his flushed, sunburnt face with its young growth of moustache to call to his orderly.

      “Ah, Bondarenko, my good friend,” he said to the hussar who came dashing headlong to his horse. “Walk him for me, dear friend,” he said with that fraternal, jolly affection with which good-hearted young men address everybody when they are happy.

      “Yes, your excellency,” replied the Ukrainian, tossing his head merrily.

      “Take care now, a good walk!”

      Another hussar also dashed up to the horse, but Bondarenko had already brought the reins of the snaffle-bridle over the horse’s head. It was obvious that the cadet tipped well and it was profitable to do him a service. Rostov ran his hand over the horse’s neck, then its rump, and stood still by the porch.

      “Glorious,” he said to himself, smiling and holding his sabre down as he ran up the porch and clicked his heels and spurs together, as they do in the mazurka. The German landlord, in a quilted jacket and cap, holding the fork he was using for mucking out, glanced out of the cowshed. The German’s face suddenly brightened when he saw Rostov. He smiled cheerfully and winked: “Schön gut Morgen! Fine, good morning!” he repeated, evidently taking pleasure in the young man’s greeting.

      “Already at work,” said Nikolai, still with the same joyful, fraternal smile, which never left his animated face. “Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah for Emperor Alexander!” he said to the German, repeating the words frequently spoken by the German landlord. The German laughed, and coming all the way out of the cowshed, he pulled off his cap, waving it over his head, and shouted:

      “And hurrah for all the world!”

      Just like the German, Rostov waved his forage cap over his head and shouted with a laugh: “And hurrah for all the world!” Although neither of them – not the German, who was mucking out his cowshed, nor Nikolai, who had taken a platoon to fetch hay – had any special reason for merriment, these two men looked at each other in transports of happiness and brotherly love, shook their heads as a sign of their mutual love and went their separate ways with a smile, the German back into the cowshed and Nikolai into the hut that he and Denisov occupied.

      The previous day the officers of this squadron had gathered at the quarters of the captain of the fourth squadron in a different village and spent the whole night playing cards. Rostov had been there, but he had left early. For all his desire to be the complete hussar and comrade, he could not drink more than a glass of wine without feeling ill, and he fell asleep at cards. He had too much money, and did not know what to do with it, so he could not understand the pleasure of winning. Every time he placed a stake on the advice of the officers, he won money that he did not need and observed how disagreeable this was for the man whose money it was, but he was unable to help him. Even though the squadron commander had never reprimanded him in connection with his duties, Rostov had decided for himself that in military service the most important thing was to be conscientious in performing one’s duty, and he had informed all the officers that he would regard himself as worthless trash if he ever permitted himself to skip his turn for a duty assignment or a mission. Subsequently he discovered for himself that the duties of serving as a non-commissioned officer, which no one had forced him to undertake, were onerous, but he remembered the incautious pledge that he had given and did not betray it. Having been given, as part of his duties as a non-commissioned officer, the order of the day by the sergeant-major the previous evening, he had accordingly given orders to be woken before dawn so as to take a platoon out to get hay. While Denisov was still sleeping, Rostov had already had a long talk with the hussars, taken a good СКАЧАТЬ