War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [687]
“Well, is everything ready?” asked Denisov. “Bring the horses.”
The horses were brought. Denisov got angry with the Cossack for the slack girth and, having rebuked him, mounted up. Petya took hold of the stirrup. The horse, out of habit, went to nip him in the leg, but Petya, not feeling his own weight, quickly leaped into the saddle and, looking back at the hussars who set out behind him in the darkness, rode up to Denisov.
“Vassily Fyodorovich, will you entrust me with something? Please…for God’s sake…” he said. Denisov seemed to have forgotten about Petya’s existence. He looked at him.
“One thing I ask of you,” he said sternly, “listen to me and don’t poke your nose anywhere.”
During the whole traverse, Denisov did not say a word more to Petya and rode silently. When they rode up to the edge of the forest, it was beginning to grow noticeably light in the field. Denisov said something in a whisper to the esaul, and the Cossacks began to ride past Petya and Denisov. When they had all ridden past, Denisov touched up his horse and rode down the hill. Sitting back and sliding, the horses and riders descended into the hollow. Petya rode beside Denisov. The trembling in his whole body kept increasing. It was growing brighter and brighter, only the mist hid distant objects. Having ridden down and looked around, Denisov nodded to a Cossack who was standing next to him.
“The signal!” he said.
The Cossack raised his hand, a shot rang out. And at the same moment came the thud of horses galloping ahead, shouts from different sides, and more shots.
At the same moment, as the sound of thudding hoofs and shouts rang out, Petya, lashing his horse and loosing the reins, not listening to Denisov, who was shouting to him, galloped forward. It seemed to Petya that it suddenly became completely bright, like midday, just as the shot rang out. He rode up to the bridge. Ahead of him Cossacks were galloping along the road. On the bridge he ran into a Cossack who lagged behind and galloped on. Ahead of him some people—it must have been the French—were running from the right side of the road to the left. One fell into the mud under the feet of Petya’s horse.
By one cottage, Cossacks were crowded, doing something. A terrible cry came from the midst of the crowd. Petya rode up to this crowd, and the first thing he saw was the pale face of a Frenchman with a trembling lower jaw, who was clutching the shaft of a pike pointed at him.
“Hurrah!…Lads…ours…” cried Petya, and, giving free rein to his excited horse, he rode on up the street.
Shooting was heard ahead. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged Russian prisoners were running along both sides of the street, shouting something loudly and incoherently. A dashing Frenchman in a blue greatcoat, hatless, with a red, frowning face, was fighting off some hussars with his bayonet. When Petya galloped up, the Frenchman had already fallen. “Late again,” flashed in Petya’s head, and he rode to where he heard the sounds of rapid gunfire. The shots were coming from the courtyard of the manor house, where he had been the night before with Dolokhov. The French had ensconced themselves there behind the wattle fence, in a garden densely overgrown with bushes, and were firing at the Cossacks crowding in the gateway. Riding up to the gate, Petya saw Dolokhov amidst the powder smoke, with a pale, greenish face, shouting something to the men. “Go around! Wait for the infantry!” he was shouting just as Petya rode up to him.
“Wait?…Hurra-a-ah!…” shouted Petya, and, not losing a moment, he galloped towards the place from which the shots were coming and where the powder smoke was thickest. A volley of shots rang out, stray bullets whined and splatted into something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after Petya through the gates of the house. In the dense, undulating smoke some of the French dropped their weapons and ran out of the bushes towards the Cossacks, others ran down the hill to the pond. Petya galloped on