War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [260]
“Let God and the reat sovereign judge me for it!” Denisov said as he went out; and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splash through the mud behind the shed. Rostov did not even bother to find out where Denisov had gone. Having warmed up in his corner, he fell asleep and emerged from the hut only towards evening. Denisov had not come back yet. The evening turned clear; by the next dugout two officers and a junker were pitching horseshoes, laughing as the horseshoes stuck in the loose, muddy soil. Rostov joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers saw some wagons driving up to them. They were followed by about fifteen hussars on skinny horses. The wagons with their hussar convoy drove up to the tethering posts, and a crowd of hussars surrounded them.
“Well, so Denisov got all upset,” said Rostov, “and here come the provisions.”
“Right you are!” said the officers. “The soldiers must be overjoyed!” Denisov rode a little behind the hussars, accompanied by two infantry officers with whom he was talking about something. Rostov walked towards them.
“I warn you, Captain,” said one of the officers, thin, small, and clearly very angry.
“I said I won’t give them up,” replied Denisov.
“You’ll answer for this, Captain, it’s violence—to seize your own army’s transport! Our men haven’t eaten for two days!”
“And mine haven’t eaten for two weeks,” replied Denisov.
“It’s highway robbery, my dear sir, you’ll answer for it!” the infantry officer repeated, raising his voice.
“What are you bothering me for? Eh?” shouted Denisov, suddenly flaring up. “I’m the one who’ll answer for it, not you, so stop buzzing around here while you’re still in one piece. March!” he shouted at the officers.
“All right, then!” shouted the little officer, not intimidated and not going away. “This is highway robbery, so I’ll…”
“March off to the devil, quick step, while you’re still in one piece.” And Denisov turned his horse towards the officer.
“All right, all right,” the officer said menacingly, and, turning his horse, he rode off at a trot, bouncing in the saddle.
“A dog on a fence, a real live dog on a fence,” Denisov said behind him, a cavalryman’s highest mockery of an infantryman on horseback, and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing.
“I took it from the infantry, took the whole transport by force!” he said. “What, should people drop dead of hunger?”
The wagons that were driven up to the hussars had been intended for an infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport was unescorted, Denisov and his hussars took it by force. The soldiers were given biscuits in plenty, and they even shared them with other squadrons.
The next day the regimental commander summoned Denisov and told him, covering his eyes with his spread fingers: “I look at it this way, I know nothing, and will not start proceedings; but I advise you to go to the staff and settle matters there in the provisions department, and, if possible, to sign a receipt that you received such-and-such provisions; in the contrary case—since the request was put in by the infantry regiment—proceedings could be started and might end badly.”
Denisov rode to the staff straight from the regimental commander, with a sincere wish to follow his advice. In the evening he returned to his dugout in such a state as Rostov had never yet seen him in. Denisov could not speak and was gasping for breath. When Rostov asked what was the matter with him, he only uttered incomprehensible oaths and threats in a hoarse and weak voice.
Alarmed by Denisov’s state, Rostov suggested he should undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor.
“Me tried for robbery—ach! Give me more water—let them try me, but I’ll beat the scoundrels, I’ll always beat them, and I’ll tell the sovereign. Give me ice,” he kept murmuring.
The regimental doctor came and said it was necessary to bleed him. A deep dish of dark blood came from Denisov’s shaggy arm, and only then was he able to tell what had happened to him.
“I arrive,” Denisov told them.