War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [95]
Zherkov, with his shoulders raised high, a familiar figure to the Pavlogradsky hussars (he had recently quit their regiment), rode up to the regimental commander. After his expulsion from the head staff, Zherkov had not remained with the regiment, saying that he was no fool to drudge away at the front when he could get more decorations while doing nothing on the staff, and he had managed to set himself up as an orderly officer for Prince Bagration. He came to his former superior with an order from the commander of the rear guard.
“Colonel,” he said with his gloomy earnestness, addressing Rostov’s enemy and looking around at his comrades, “there is an order to stop and set fire to the bridge.”
“An order of who?” the colonel asked sullenly.
“I don’t know of who, Colonel,” the cornet replied earnestly, “only the prince told me: ‘Go and tell the colonel that the hussars must turn back quickly and set fire to the bridge.’”
After Zherkov, an officer of the suite rode up to the hussar colonel with the same order. After the officer of the suite, on a Cossack horse that was barely able to gallop under him, fat Nesvitsky rode up.
“What is this, Colonel?” he cried while still riding. “I told you to set fire to the bridge, and somebody got it wrong; everybody’s going crazy there, they can’t figure it out.”
The colonel unhurriedly halted his regiment and turned to Nesvitsky.
“You spoke to me about flammable material,” he said, “but you said nothing to me about setting feuer to it.”
“What do you mean, my dear man?” Nesvitsky said, stopping, taking off his cap, and smoothing his sweat-dampened hair with a plump hand. “What do you mean I didn’t tell you to set fire to the bridge, since you put flammable material there?”
“I am not ‘dear man’ to you, Mister Staff Officer, and you did not tell me to set feuer to the bridge! I know the serfiss, and I am habituated to strictly fulfilling orders. You said the bridge vas to be set on feuer, but who vould set it on feuer I cannot know by the Holy Spirit…”
“It’s always like that,” Nesvitsky said, waving his hand. “What are you doing here?” he turned to Zherkov.
“The same as you. You’re soaking wet, though, let me wring you out.”
“You said, Mister Staff Officer…” the colonel went on in an offended tone.
“Colonel,” the officer of the suite interrupted, “you must hurry, otherwise the enemy will move up his canister guns.”
The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the fat staff officer, at Zherkov, and frowned.
“I vill set feuer to the bridge,” he said in a solemn tone, as if to show that, despite all the unpleasantness done to him, he would still do what he had to do.
Striking his horse with his long, muscular legs, as if it was all the horse’s fault, the colonel moved forward and commanded the second squadron, the one in which Rostov served under Denisov, to go back to the bridge.
“Well, that’s it,” thought Rostov, “he wants to test me!” His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his face. “Let him see whether I’m a coward,” he thought.
Again there appeared on all the cheerful faces of the men of the squadron that serious trait that had been there when they were under fire. Rostov, never taking his eyes away, kept looking at his enemy, the regimental commander, wishing to find on his face a confirmation of his surmises; but the colonel never once glanced at Rostov, but, as always at the front, looked stern and solemn. The command was heard.
“Step lively! Step lively!” several voices said near him.
Their sabers catching in their bridles, their spurs jingling, the hussars hurriedly dismounted, not knowing themselves what they were going to do. The hussars crossed themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the regimental commander—he had no time. He was afraid, with a sinking heart he was afraid to lag behind the hussars. His hand shook as he turned his horse over to the handler, and