War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [162]
Rostov himself, flinging his legs back, drawing his stomach in, and feeling himself one piece with his horse, with a frowning but blissful face, like the “very devil,” as Denisov used to say, rode past the sovereign.
“Bravo, Pavlogradskies!” said the sovereign.
“My God! How happy I’d be if he ordered me right now to throw myself into the fire,” thought Rostov.
When the review was over, the officers, both the newly arrived and Kutuzov’s, began to gather in groups, and talk sprang up about rewards, about the Austrians and their uniforms, about their front, about Bonaparte and how bad things were going to be for him now, especially when the corps from Essen also arrives and Prussia takes our side.
But most of all, in all circles, they talked about the sovereign Alexander, repeating his every word and movement and admiring him.
They all wished for only one thing: to go quickly against the enemy under the sovereign’s leadership. Under the command of the sovereign himself, it would be impossible not to defeat anyone whatever—so thought Rostov and most of the officers.
After the review, there was greater assurance of victory than there might have been after two victorious battles.
IX
The day after the review, Boris, putting on his best uniform and with parting wishes of success from his comrade Berg, rode to see Bolkonsky in Olmütz, wishing to avail himself of his friendliness and arrange the best position for himself, in particular the position of adjutant to an important person, which seemed to him particularly attractive in the army. “It’s all right for Rostov, whose father sends him ten thousand roubles at a time, to talk about how he doesn’t want to bow to anybody or be anybody’s lackey; but I, who have nothing except my own head, must make my career and not let chances slip, but avail myself of them.”
He did not find Prince Andrei in Olmütz that day. But the sight of Olmütz, where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were stationed and both emperors lived with their suites of courtiers and attendants, increased still more his desire to belong to that supreme world.
He knew nobody, and, despite his dashing guardsman’s uniform, all these higher people going up and down the streets in dashing carriages, plumes, ribbons and decorations, courtiers and military, seemed to stand so immeasurably higher than he, a little officer of the guards, that they not only did not want to, but even could not recognize his existence. In the quarters of the commander in chief Kutuzov, where he asked for Bolkonsky, all these adjutants and even orderlies looked at him as if wishing to impress upon him that quite a few officers such as he hung around there, and that they were all quite sick of it. Despite that, or rather, because of it, the next day, the fifteenth, after dinner he went to Olmütz again, and, going into the house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for Bolkonsky. Prince Andrei was at home, and Boris was taken to a large hall, which probably had once been used for dancing, and now was filled with five beds and various furnishings: tables, chairs, and a pianoforte. One adjutant, closer to the door, in a Persian dressing gown, was sitting at a table and writing. A second, the red, fat Nesvitsky, was lying on a bed with his hands behind his head and laughing along with another officer who was sitting with him. A third was playing a Viennese waltz on the pianoforte, a fourth was lying on the pianoforte and singing along. Bolkonsky was not there. None of these gentlemen changed his position on noticing Boris. The one who was writing and whom Boris addressed, turned to him vexedly and told him that Bolkonsky was on duty, and that if he wanted to see him, he should go through the door on the left, to the reception room. Boris thanked him and went into the reception room.