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Lázarev
glanced
morosely
at
the
little
man
with
white
hands
who
was
doing
something
to
him
and
,
still
standing
motionless
presenting
arms
,
looked
again
straight
into
Alexander
's
eyes
,
as
if
asking
whether
he
should
stand
there
,
or
go
away
,
or
do
something
else
.
But
receiving
no
orders
,
he
remained
for
some
time
in
that
rigid
position
.
The
Emperors
remounted
and
rode
away
.
The
Preobrazhénsk
battalion
,
breaking
rank
,
mingled
with
the
French
Guards
and
sat
down
at
the
tables
prepared
for
them
.
Lázarev
sat
in
the
place
of
honor
.
Russian
and
French
officers
embraced
him
,
congratulated
him
,
and
pressed
his
hands
.
Crowds
of
officers
and
civilians
drew
near
merely
to
see
him
.
A
rumble
of
Russian
and
French
voices
and
laughter
filled
the
air
round
the
tables
in
the
square
.
Two
officers
with
flushed
faces
,
looking
cheerful
and
happy
,
passed
by
Rostóv
.
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"
What
d'you
think
of
the
treat
?
All
on
silver
plate
,
"
one
of
them
was
saying
.
"
Have
you
seen
Lázarev
?
"
"
I
have
.
"
"
Tomorrow
,
I
hear
,
the
Preobrazhénskis
will
give
them
a
dinner
.
"
"
Yes
,
but
what
luck
for
Lázarev
!
Twelve
hundred
francs
'
pension
for
life
.
"
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"
Here
's
a
cap
,
lads
!
"
shouted
a
Preobrazhénsk
soldier
,
donning
a
shaggy
French
cap
.
"
It
's
a
fine
thing
!
First-rate
!
"
"
Have
you
heard
the
password
?
"
asked
one
Guards
'
officer
of
another
.
"
The
day
before
yesterday
it
was
'
Napoléon
,
France
,
bravoure
'
;
yesterday
,
'
Alexandre
,
Russie
,
grandeur
.
'
One
day
our
Emperor
gives
it
and
next
day
Napoleon
.
Tomorrow
our
Emperor
will
send
a
St.
George
's
Cross
to
the
bravest
of
the
French
Guards
.
It
has
to
be
done
.
He
must
respond
in
kind
.