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War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [160]

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in different uniforms; now there came the sounds of the measured thudding and clanking of the dressed-up cavalry, in blue, red, and green embroidered uniforms, with embroidered musicians in front, on black, chestnut, or gray horses; now, stretching out with the brazen noise of polished, shining cannon shaking on their carriages, and with their smell of linstocks, the artillery crawled between the infantry and cavalry and settled in their appointed places. Not only the generals in full parade dress, their waists, fat or slender, tightened to the utmost, their necks reddened by high-propped collars, wearing sashes and all their decorations; not only the pomaded, spruced-up officers, but every soldier, his face freshly scrubbed and shaven, his equipment polished to the highest shine possible, and every horse, groomed so that its hide gleamed like satin, its wetted mane lying hair by hair—they all felt that what was taking place was earnest, significant, and solemn. Every general and soldier sensed his own nullity, aware of being a grain of sand in this sea of people, and at the same time sensed his strength, aware of being part of this enormous whole.

From early morning strenuous bustling and efforts had begun, and by ten o’clock everything had reached the required order. The ranks were drawn up on the enormous field. The entire army was stretched out in three lines. In the front, the cavalry; behind them, the artillery; further behind, the infantry.

Between each kind of troops was a sort of street. The three parts of this army could be clearly distinguished from each other: Kutuzov’s fighting force (in which the Pavlogradsky regiment stood on the right flank in the front line), the infantry and guards regiments come from Russia, and the Austrian troops. But they all stood in one line, under one command, and in the same order.

Like wind in the leaves, an excited whisper passed: “They’re coming! they’re coming!” Frightened voices were heard, and the bustle of final preparations rippled through the troops.

Before them, coming from Olmütz, a moving group appeared. And at the same time, though it was a windless day, a light current of wind ran through the army and barely stirred the lance pennants and slack standards, which began to flutter against their staffs. It seemed the army itself, by this slight movement, was expressing its joy at the approaching sovereigns. A single voice was heard: “Attention!” Then, like cocks at dawn, voices repeated it from all ends. And everything became still.

In the deathly silence only the thud of hooves could be heard. This was the emperors’ suite. The sovereigns rode up to the flanks, and the trumpets of the first cavalry regiment rang out, playing the general march. It seemed it was not the trumpeters playing, but the army itself, rejoicing at the sovereigns’ approach, that naturally produced these sounds. Through these sounds the one young, gentle voice of the emperor Alexander was distinctly heard. He uttered a greeting, and the first regiment bawled out such a deafening, prolonged, and joyful “Hurrah!” that the men themselves were awestruck at the multitude and strength of the huge bulk they made up.

Rostov, standing in the front ranks of Kutuzov’s army, which the sovereign rode up to first, had the same feeling that was experienced by every man in that army—a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud awareness of strength, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this solemnity.

He felt that it would take only one word from this man for that whole mass (and he himself bound up with it—an insignificant speck) to go through fire and water, to crime, to death, or to the greatest heroism, and therefore he could not but tremble and thrill at the sight of that approaching word.

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” thundered on all sides, and one regiment after another received the sovereign to the strains of the general march; then “Hurrah!” and the general march, and again “Hurrah!” and “Hurrah!”—which, ever growing and swelling, merged into a deafening roar.

Before the approach of

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