to cease firing； and to form so as to make room for the two battalions of reinforcements。 Just as he was speaking the cloud of smoke covering the hollow was lifted as by an unseen hand and blown by the rising wind from right to left。 and the opposite hill came into sight with the French moving across it。 All eyes instinctively fastened on that French column moving down upon them and winding in and out over the ups and downs of the ground。 Already they could see the fur caps of the soldiers； could distinguish officers from privates； could see their flag flapping against its staff。
“How well they’re marching；” said some one in Bagration’s suite。
The front part of the column was already dipping down into the hollow。 The engagement would take place then on the nearer side of the slope…
The remnants of the regiment that had already been in action； forming hurriedly； drew off to the right； the two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs marched up in good order； driving the last stragglers before them They had not yet reached Bagration； but the heavy； weighty tread could be heard of the whole mass keeping step。 On the left flank； nearest of all to Bagration； marched the captain； a round…faced imposing…looking man； with a foolish and happy expression of face。 It was the same infantry officer who had run out of the shanty after Tushin。 He was obviously thinking of nothing at the moment； but that he was marching before his commander in fine style。 With the complacency of a man on parade； he stepped springing on his muscular legs； drawing himself up without the slightest effort； as though he were swinging； and this easy elasticity was a striking contrast to the heavy tread of the soldiers keeping step with him。 He wore hanging by his leg an unsheathed； slender； narrow sword （a small bent sabre； more like a toy than a weapon）； and looking about him； now at the commander； now behind； he turned his whole powerful frame round without getting out of step。 It looked as though all the force of his soul was directed to marching by his commander in the best style possible。 And conscious that he was accomplishing this； he was happy。 “Left … left … left …” he seemed to be inwardly repeating at each alternate step。 And the wall of soldierly figures； weighed down by their knapsacks and guns； with their faces all grave in different ways； moved by in the same rhythm； as though each of the hundreds of soldiers were repeating mentally at each alternate step； “Left … left … left …” A stout major skirted a bush on the road； puffing and shifting his step。 A soldier； who had dropped behind； trotted after the company； looking panic…stricken at his own defection。 A cannon ball； whizzing through the air； flew over the heads of Prince Bagration and his suite； and in time to the same rhythm； “Left … left …” it fell into the column。
“Close the ranks！” rang out the jaunty voice of the captain。 The soldiers marched in a half circle round something in the place where the ball had fallen； and an old cavalryman； an under officer； lingered behind near the dead； and overtaking his line； changed feet with a hop； got into step； and looked angrily about him。 “Left … left … left …” seemed to echo out of the menacing silence and the monotonous sound of the simultaneous tread of the feet on the ground。
“Well done； lads！” said Prince Bagration。
“For your ex … slen； slen； slency！” rang out along the ranks。 A surly…looking soldier； marching on the left； turned his eyes on Bagration as he shouted； with an expression that seemed to say； “We know that without telling。” Another； opening his mouth wide； shouted without glancing round； and marched on； as though afraid of letting his attention stray。 The order was given to halt and take off their knapsacks。
Bagration rode round the ranks of men who had marched by him； and then dismounted from his horse。 He gave the reins to a Cossack； took off his cloak and handed it to him； stretched his legs and set his cap straight on his head。 The French column with the officers in front came into sight under the hill。
“With God’s help！” cried Bagration in a resolute； sonorous voice。 He turned for one instant to the front line； and swinging his arms a little； with the awkward； lumbering gait of a man always on horseback； he walked forward over the uneven ground。 Prince Andrey felt that some unseen force was drawing him forward； and he had a sensation of great happiness。
The French were near。 Already Prince Andrey； walking beside Bagration； could distinguish clearly the sashes； the red epaulettes； even the faces of the French。 （He saw distinctly one bandy…legged old French officer； wearing Hessian boots； who was getting up the hill with difficulty； taking hold of the bushes。） Prince Bagration gave no new command； and still marched in front of the ranks in the same silence。 Suddenly there was the snap of a shot among the French； another and a third … and smoke rose and firing rang out in all the broken…up ranks of the enemy。 Several of our men fell； among them the round…faced officer； who had been marching so carefully and complacently。 But at the very instant of the first shot； Bagration looked round and shouted； “Hurrah！” “Hurra … a … a … ah！” rang out along our lines in a prolonged roar； and out…stripping Prince Bagration and one another； in no order； but in an eager and joyous crowd； our men ran downhill after the routed French。
Chapter 19
THE ATTACK of the Sixth Chasseurs covered the retreat of the right flank。 In the centre Tushin’s forgotten battery had succeeded in setting fire to Sch？ngraben and delaying the advance of the French。 The French stayed to put out the fire； which was fanned by the wind； and this gave time for the Russians to retreat。 The retreat of the centre beyond the ravine was hurried and noisy； but the different companies kept apart。 But the left flank； which consisted of the Azovsky and Podolosky infantry and the Pavlograd hussars； was simultaneously attacked in front and surrounded by the cream of the French army under Lannes； and was thrown into disorder。 Bagration had sent Zherkov to the general in command of the left flank with orders to retreat immediately。
Zherkov； keeping his hand still at his cap； had briskly started his horse and galloped off。 But no sooner had he ridden out of Bagration’s sight than his courage failed him。 He was overtaken by a panic he could not contend against； and he could not bring himself to go where there was danger。
After galloping some distance towards the troops of the left flank； he rode not forward where he heard firing； but off to look for the general and the officers in a direction where they could not by any possibility be； and so it was that he did not deliver the message。
The command of the left flank belonged by right of seniority to the general of the regiment in which Dolohov was serving—the regiment which Kutuzov had inspected before Braunau。 But the command of the extreme left flank had been entrusted to the colonel of the Pavlograd hussars； in which Rostov was serving。 Hence arose a misunderstanding。 Both commanding officers were intensely exasperated with one another； and at a time when fighting had been going on a long while on the right flank； and the French had already begun their advance on the left； these two officers were engaged in negotiations； the sole aim of which was the mortification of one another。 The regiments—cavalry and infantry alike—were by no means in readiness for the engagement。 No one from the common soldier to the general expected a battle； and they were all calmly engaged in peaceful occupations—feeding their horses in the cavalry； gathering wood in the infantry。
“He is my senior in rank； however；” said the German colonel of the hussars； growing very red and addressing an adjutant； who had ridden up。 “So let him do as he likes。 I can’t sacrifice my hussars。 Bugler！ Sound the retreat！”
But things were becoming urgent。 The fire of cannon and musketry thundered in unison on the right and in the centre； and the French tunics of Lannes’s sharpshooters had already passed over the milldam； and were forming on this side of it hardly out of musket…shot range。
The infantry general walked up to his horse with his quivering strut； and mounting it and drawing himself up very erect and tall； he rode up to the Pavlograd colonel。 The two officers met with affable bows and concealed fury in their hearts。
“Again； colonel；” the general said； “I cannot leave half my men in the wood。 I beg you； I beg you；” he repeated； “to occupy the position； and prepare for an attack。”
“And I beg you not to meddle in what’s not your business；” answered the colonel； getting hot。 “If you were a cavalry officer …”
“I am not a cavalry officer； colonel； but I am a Russian general； and if you are unaware of the fact …”
“I am fully aware of it； your excellency；” the colonel screamed suddenly； setting his horse in motion and becoming purple in the face。 “If you care to come to the front； you will see that this position cannot be held。 I don’t want to massacre my regiment for your satisfaction。”
“You forget yourself； colonel。 I am not considering my own satisfaction； and I do not allow such a thing to be said。”
Taking the colonel’s proposition as a challenge to his courage； the general squared his chest and rode scowling beside him to the front line； as though their whole difference would inevitably be settled there under the enemy’s fire。 They reached the line； several bullets flew by them； and they stood still without a word。 To look at the front line was a useless proceeding； since from the spot where they had been standing before； it was clear that the cavalry could not act； owing to the bushes and the steep and broken character of the ground； and that the French were out…flanking the left wing。 The general and the colonel glared sternly and significantly at one another； like two cocks preparing for a fight； seeking in vain for a symptom of cowardice。 Both stood the test without flinching。 Since there was nothing to be said； and neither was willing to give the other grounds for asserting that he was the first to withdraw from under fire； they might have remained a long while standing there； mutually testing