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"
Your
excellency
!
Your
excellency
!
Your
excellency
!
"
he
kept
repeating
pertinaciously
while
he
shook
Pierre
by
the
shoulder
without
looking
at
him
,
having
apparently
lost
hope
of
getting
him
to
wake
up
.
"
What
?
Has
it
begun
?
Is
it
time
?
"
Pierre
asked
,
waking
up
.
"
Hear
the
firing
,
"
said
the
groom
,
a
discharged
soldier
.
"
All
the
gentlemen
have
gone
out
,
and
his
Serene
Highness
himself
rode
past
long
ago
.
"
Pierre
dressed
hastily
and
ran
out
to
the
porch
.
Outside
all
was
bright
,
fresh
,
dewy
,
and
cheerful
.
The
sun
,
just
bursting
forth
from
behind
a
cloud
that
had
concealed
it
,
was
shining
,
with
rays
still
half
broken
by
the
clouds
,
over
the
roofs
of
the
street
opposite
,
on
the
dew-besprinkled
dust
of
the
road
,
on
the
walls
of
the
houses
,
on
the
windows
,
the
fence
,
and
on
Pierre
's
horses
standing
before
the
hut
.
The
roar
of
guns
sounded
more
distinct
outside
.
An
adjutant
accompanied
by
a
Cossack
passed
by
at
a
sharp
trot
.
"
It
's
time
,
Count
;
it
's
time
!
"
cried
the
adjutant
.
Telling
the
groom
to
follow
him
with
the
horses
,
Pierre
went
down
the
street
to
the
knoll
from
which
he
had
looked
at
the
field
of
battle
the
day
before
.
A
crowd
of
military
men
was
assembled
there
,
members
of
the
staff
could
be
heard
conversing
in
French
,
and
Kutúzov
's
gray
head
in
a
white
cap
with
a
red
band
was
visible
,
his
gray
nape
sunk
between
his
shoulders
.
He
was
looking
through
a
field
glass
down
the
highroad
before
him
.
Mounting
the
steps
to
the
knoll
Pierre
looked
at
the
scene
before
him
,
spellbound
by
beauty
.
It
was
the
same
panorama
he
had
admired
from
that
spot
the
day
before
,
but
now
the
whole
place
was
full
of
troops
and
covered
by
smoke
clouds
from
the
guns
,
and
the
slanting
rays
of
the
bright
sun
,
rising
slightly
to
the
left
behind
Pierre
,
cast
upon
it
through
the
clear
morning
air
penetrating
streaks
of
rosy
,
golden-tinted
light
and
long
dark
shadows
.
The
forest
at
the
farthest
extremity
of
the
panorama
seemed
carved
in
some
precious
stone
of
a
yellowish-green
color
;
its
undulating
outline
was
silhouetted
against
the
horizon
and
was
pierced
beyond
Valúevo
by
the
Smolénsk
highroad
crowded
with
troops
.
Nearer
at
hand
glittered
golden
cornfields
interspersed
with
copses
.
There
were
troops
to
be
seen
everywhere
,
in
front
and
to
the
right
and
left
.
All
this
was
vivid
,
majestic
,
and
unexpected
;
but
what
impressed
Pierre
most
of
all
was
the
view
of
the
battlefield
itself
,
of
Borodinó
and
the
hollows
on
both
sides
of
the
Kolochá
.
Above
the
Kolochá
,
in
Borodinó
and
on
both
sides
of
it
,
especially
to
the
left
where
the
Vóyna
flowing
between
its
marshy
banks
falls
into
the
Kolochá
,
a
mist
had
spread
which
seemed
to
melt
,
to
dissolve
,
and
to
become
translucent
when
the
brilliant
sun
appeared
and
magically
colored
and
outlined
everything
.
The
smoke
of
the
guns
mingled
with
this
mist
,
and
over
the
whole
expanse
and
through
that
mist
the
rays
of
the
morning
sun
were
reflected
,
flashing
back
like
lightning
from
the
water
,
from
the
dew
,
and
from
the
bayonets
of
the
troops
crowded
together
by
the
riverbanks
and
in
Borodinó
.
A
white
church
could
be
seen
through
the
mist
,
and
here
and
there
the
roofs
of
huts
in
Borodinó
as
well
as
dense
masses
of
soldiers
,
or
green
ammunition
chests
and
ordnance
.
And
all
this
moved
,
or
seemed
to
move
,
as
the
smoke
and
mist
spread
out
over
the
whole
space
.
Just
as
in
the
mist-enveloped
hollow
near
Borodinó
,
so
along
the
entire
line
outside
and
above
it
and
especially
in
the
woods
and
fields
to
the
left
,
in
the
valleys
and
on
the
summits
of
the
high
ground
,
clouds
of
powder
smoke
seemed
continually
to
spring
up
out
of
nothing
,
now
singly
,
now
several
at
a
time
,
some
translucent
,
others
dense
,
which
,
swelling
,
growing
,
rolling
,
and
blending
,
extended
over
the
whole
expanse
.
