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Dólokhov
who
was
in
the
midst
of
the
crowd
forced
his
way
to
the
edge
of
the
dam
,
throwing
two
soldiers
off
their
feet
,
and
ran
onto
the
slippery
ice
that
covered
the
millpool
.
"
Turn
this
way
!
"
he
shouted
,
jumping
over
the
ice
which
creaked
under
him
;
"
turn
this
way
!
"
he
shouted
to
those
with
the
gun
.
"
It
bears
!
...
"
The
ice
bore
him
but
it
swayed
and
creaked
,
and
it
was
plain
that
it
would
give
way
not
only
under
a
cannon
or
a
crowd
,
but
very
soon
even
under
his
weight
alone
.
The
men
looked
at
him
and
pressed
to
the
bank
,
hesitating
to
step
onto
the
ice
.
The
general
on
horseback
at
the
entrance
to
the
dam
raised
his
hand
and
opened
his
mouth
to
address
Dólokhov
.
Suddenly
a
cannon
ball
hissed
so
low
above
the
crowd
that
everyone
ducked
.
It
flopped
into
something
moist
,
and
the
general
fell
from
his
horse
in
a
pool
of
blood
.
Nobody
gave
him
a
look
or
thought
of
raising
him
.
"
Get
onto
the
ice
,
over
the
ice
!
Go
on
!
Turn
!
Do
n't
you
hear
?
Go
on
!
"
innumerable
voices
suddenly
shouted
after
the
ball
had
struck
the
general
,
the
men
themselves
not
knowing
what
,
or
why
,
they
were
shouting
.
One
of
the
hindmost
guns
that
was
going
onto
the
dam
turned
off
onto
the
ice
.
Crowds
of
soldiers
from
the
dam
began
running
onto
the
frozen
pond
.
The
ice
gave
way
under
one
of
the
foremost
soldiers
,
and
one
leg
slipped
into
the
water
.
He
tried
to
right
himself
but
fell
in
up
to
his
waist
.
The
nearest
soldiers
shrank
back
,
the
gun
driver
stopped
his
horse
,
but
from
behind
still
came
the
shouts
:
"
Onto
the
ice
,
why
do
you
stop
?
Go
on
!
Go
on
!
"
And
cries
of
horror
were
heard
in
the
crowd
The
soldiers
near
the
gun
waved
their
arms
and
beat
the
horses
to
make
them
turn
and
move
on
.
The
horses
moved
off
the
bank
.
The
ice
,
that
had
held
under
those
on
foot
,
collapsed
in
a
great
mass
,
and
some
forty
men
who
were
on
it
dashed
,
some
forward
and
some
back
,
drowning
one
another
.
Still
the
cannon
balls
continued
regularly
to
whistle
and
flop
onto
the
ice
and
into
the
water
and
oftenest
of
all
among
the
crowd
that
covered
the
dam
,
the
pond
,
and
the
bank
.
On
the
Pratzen
Heights
,
where
he
had
fallen
with
the
flagstaff
in
his
hand
,
lay
Prince
Andrew
Bolkónski
bleeding
profusely
and
unconsciously
uttering
a
gentle
,
piteous
,
and
childlike
moan
.
Toward
evening
he
ceased
moaning
and
became
quite
still
.
He
did
not
know
how
long
his
unconsciousness
lasted
.
Suddenly
he
again
felt
that
he
was
alive
and
suffering
from
a
burning
,
lacerating
pain
in
his
head
.
"
Where
is
it
,
that
lofty
sky
that
I
did
not
know
till
now
,
but
saw
today
?
"
was
his
first
thought
.
"
And
I
did
not
know
this
suffering
either
,
"
he
thought
.
"
Yes
,
I
did
not
know
anything
,
anything
at
all
till
now
.
But
where
am
I
?
"
