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The
instant
he
had
done
this
,
all
Rostóv
's
animation
vanished
.
The
officer
fell
,
not
so
much
from
the
blow
--
which
had
but
slightly
cut
his
arm
above
the
elbow
--
as
from
the
shock
to
his
horse
and
from
fright
.
Rostóv
reined
in
his
horse
,
and
his
eyes
sought
his
foe
to
see
whom
he
had
vanquished
.
The
French
dragoon
officer
was
hopping
with
one
foot
on
the
ground
,
the
other
being
caught
in
the
stirrup
.
His
eyes
,
screwed
up
with
fear
as
if
he
every
moment
expected
another
blow
,
gazed
up
at
Rostóv
with
shrinking
terror
.
His
pale
and
mud-stained
face
--
fair
and
young
,
with
a
dimple
in
the
chin
and
light-blue
eyes
--
was
not
an
enemy
's
face
at
all
suited
to
a
battlefield
,
but
a
most
ordinary
,
homelike
face
.
Before
Rostóv
had
decided
what
to
do
with
him
,
the
officer
cried
,
"
I
surrender
!
"
He
hurriedly
but
vainly
tried
to
get
his
foot
out
of
the
stirrup
and
did
not
remove
his
frightened
blue
eyes
from
Rostóv
's
face
.
Some
hussars
who
galloped
up
disengaged
his
foot
and
helped
him
into
the
saddle
.
On
all
sides
,
the
hussars
were
busy
with
the
dragoons
;
one
was
wounded
,
but
though
his
face
was
bleeding
,
he
would
not
give
up
his
horse
;
another
was
perched
up
behind
an
hussar
with
his
arms
round
him
;
a
third
was
being
helped
by
an
hussar
to
mount
his
horse
.
In
front
,
the
French
infantry
were
firing
as
they
ran
.
The
hussars
galloped
hastily
back
with
their
prisoners
.
Rostóv
galloped
back
with
the
rest
,
aware
of
an
unpleasant
feeling
of
depression
in
his
heart
.
Something
vague
and
confused
,
which
he
could
not
at
all
account
for
,
had
come
over
him
with
the
capture
of
that
officer
and
the
blow
he
had
dealt
him
.
Count
Ostermann-Tolstóy
met
the
returning
hussars
,
sent
for
Rostóv
,
thanked
him
,
and
said
he
would
report
his
gallant
deed
to
the
Emperor
and
would
recommend
him
for
a
St.
George
's
Cross
.
When
sent
for
by
Count
Ostermann
,
Rostóv
,
remembering
that
he
had
charged
without
orders
,
felt
sure
his
commander
was
sending
for
him
to
punish
him
for
breach
of
discipline
.
Ostermann
's
flattering
words
and
promise
of
a
reward
should
therefore
have
struck
him
all
the
more
pleasantly
,
but
he
still
felt
that
same
vaguely
disagreeable
feeling
of
moral
nausea
.
"
But
what
on
earth
is
worrying
me
?
"
he
asked
himself
as
he
rode
back
from
the
general
.
"
Ilyín
?
No
,
he
's
safe
.
Have
I
disgraced
myself
in
any
way
?
No
,
that
's
not
it
.
"
Something
else
,
resembling
remorse
,
tormented
him
.
"
Yes
,
oh
yes
,
that
French
officer
with
the
dimple
.
And
I
remember
how
my
arm
paused
when
I
raised
it
.
"
Rostóv
saw
the
prisoners
being
led
away
and
galloped
after
them
to
have
a
look
at
his
Frenchman
with
the
dimple
on
his
chin
.
He
was
sitting
in
his
foreign
uniform
on
an
hussar
packhorse
and
looked
anxiously
about
him
.
The
sword
cut
on
his
arm
could
scarcely
be
called
a
wound
.
He
glanced
at
Rostóv
with
a
feigned
smile
and
waved
his
hand
in
greeting
.
Rostóv
still
had
the
same
indefinite
feeling
,
as
of
shame
.
All
that
day
and
the
next
his
friends
and
comrades
noticed
that
Rostóv
,
without
being
dull
or
angry
,
was
silent
,
thoughtful
,
and
preoccupied
.
He
drank
reluctantly
,
tried
to
remain
alone
,
and
kept
turning
something
over
in
his
mind
.
Rostóv
was
always
thinking
about
that
brilliant
exploit
of
his
,
which
to
his
amazement
had
gained
him
the
St
George
's
Cross
and
even
given
him
a
reputation
for
bravery
,
and
there
was
something
he
could
not
at
all
understand
.
"
So
others
are
even
more
afraid
than
I
am
!
"
he
thought
.
"
So
that
's
all
there
is
in
what
is
called
heroism
!
And
did
I
do
it
for
my
country
's
sake
?
And
how
was
he
to
blame
,
with
his
dimple
and
blue
eyes
?
And
how
frightened
he
was
!
He
thought
that
I
should
kill
him
.
Why
should
I
kill
him
?
My
hand
trembled
.
And
they
have
given
me
a
St.
George
's
Cross
...
I
ca
n't
make
it
out
at
all
.
"
But
while
Nicholas
was
considering
these
questions
and
still
could
reach
no
clear
solution
of
what
puzzled
him
so
,
the
wheel
of
fortune
in
the
service
,
as
often
happens
,
turned
in
his
favor
.
After
the
affair
at
Ostróvna
he
was
brought
into
notice
,
received
command
of
an
hussar
battalion
,
and
when
a
brave
officer
was
needed
he
was
chosen
.
On
receiving
news
of
Natásha
's
illness
,
the
countess
,
though
not
quite
well
yet
and
still
weak
,
went
to
Moscow
with
Pétya
and
the
rest
of
the
household
,
and
the
whole
family
moved
from
Márya
Dmítrievna
's
house
to
their
own
and
settled
down
in
town
.
Natásha
's
illness
was
so
serious
that
,
fortunately
for
her
and
for
her
parents
,
the
consideration
of
all
that
had
caused
the
illness
,
her
conduct
and
the
breaking
off
of
her
engagement
,
receded
into
the
background
.
She
was
so
ill
that
it
was
impossible
for
them
to
consider
in
how
far
she
was
to
blame
for
what
had
happened
.
She
could
not
eat
or
sleep
,
grew
visibly
thinner
,
coughed
,
and
,
as
the
doctors
made
them
feel
,
was
in
danger
.
They
could
not
think
of
anything
but
how
to
help
her
.
Doctors
came
to
see
her
singly
and
in
consultation
,
talked
much
in
French
,
German
,
and
Latin
,
blamed
one
another
,
and
prescribed
a
great
variety
of
medicines
for
all
the
diseases
known
to
them
,
but
the
simple
idea
never
occurred
to
any
of
them
that
they
could
not
know
the
disease
Natásha
was
suffering
from
,
as
no
disease
suffered
by
a
live
man
can
be
known
,
for
every
living
person
has
his
own
peculiarities
and
always
has
his
own
peculiar
,
personal
,
novel
,
complicated
disease
,
unknown
to
medicine
--
not
a
disease
of
the
lungs
,
liver
,
skin
,
heart
,
nerves
,
and
so
on
mentioned
in
medical
books
,
but
a
disease
consisting
of
one
of
the
innumerable
combinations
of
the
maladies
of
those
organs
.
