War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [484]
“They can’t maintain that whole line. It’s impossible, I’ll answer for breaking through them; give me five hundred men, and I’ll break through them, that’s certain! The only system is the partisan one.”15
Denisov stood up and, gesticulating, set forth his plan for Bolkonsky. In the middle of the account, the shouts of the army, more incoherent, more prolonged, and merging with the music and songs, came from the place of the review. In the village, hoofbeats and shouts could be heard.
“Himself is coming,” cried a Cossack who was standing by the gate, “he’s coming!”
Bolkonsky and Denisov moved towards the gate, by which a bunch of soldiers (an honor guard) was standing, and saw Kutuzov moving down the street mounted on a small bay horse. An enormous suite of generals rode after him. Barclay rode almost beside him; a crowd of officers ran after them and around them and shouted “Hurrah!”
The adjutants rode into the yard ahead of him. Kutuzov, impatiently urging on his horse, which glided at an amble under his weight, and constantly nodding his head, kept putting his hand to the white cap of the horse guards he was wearing (with a red band and no visor). Coming up to the honor guard of dashing grenadiers, most of them decorated, who were saluting him, he studied them silently and attentively for a minute with a commander’s intent gaze and turned to the crowd of generals and officers that stood around him. His face suddenly assumed a subtle expression; he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of perplexity.
“And with such fine fellows, to keep retreating and retreating!” he said. “Well, good-bye, General,” he added and sent his horse through the gate past Prince Andrei and Denisov.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” cries came behind him.
Since Prince Andrei last saw him, Kutuzov had grown still heavier, become flabby and swollen with fat. But his familiar white eye, and the wound, and the weary expression of his face and figure were the same. He was dressed in a uniform jacket (the whip hung on a thin strap over his shoulder) and the white horse guard’s cap. He sat on his brisk horse, sagging and swaying heavily.
“Phew…phew…phew,” he whistled barely audibly, riding into the courtyard. His face expressed the joy of relief a man feels who intends to rest after an official appearance. He took his left foot from the stirrup and with difficulty, swinging his whole body and wincing from the effort, lifted it over the saddle, leaned on his knee, grunted, and lowered himself into the arms of the Cossacks and adjutants, who supported him.
He straightened up, looked around with his narrowed gaze and, glancing at Prince Andrei, obviously without recognizing him, strode towards the porch with his dipping gait.
“Phew…phew…phew,” he whistled and again glanced around at Prince Andrei. Only after several seconds did the impression of Prince Andrei’s face (as often happens with old men) connect with the remembrance of his person.
“Ah, greetings, Prince, greetings, dear boy, come along…” he said wearily, looking around, and went heavily up the steps, which creaked under his weight. He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down on a bench that stood on the porch.
“Well, how’s your father?”
“Yesterday I received news of his passing away,” Prince Andrei said shortly.
Kutuzov looked at Prince Andrei with wide-open, startled eyes, then took off his cap and crossed himself: “God rest his soul! His will be done with us all!” He sighed deeply, with his whole chest, and fell silent. “I loved and respected him, and I sympathize with you wholeheartedly.” He embraced Prince Andrei, pressed him to his fat chest, and did not let go of him for a long time. When he did, Prince Andrei saw that Kutuzov’s swollen lips were trembling and there were tears in his eyes. He sighed and took hold of the bench with both hands in order to stand up.
“Come along, come to my place, we’ll have a talk,” he said; but just then Denisov, who quailed as little before his superiors