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Отмена
"
Lie
down
!
"
cried
the
adjutant
,
throwing
himself
flat
on
the
ground
.
Prince
Andrew
hesitated
.
The
smoking
shell
spun
like
a
top
between
him
and
the
prostrate
adjutant
,
near
a
wormwood
plant
between
the
field
and
the
meadow
.
"
Can
this
be
death
?
"
thought
Prince
Andrew
,
looking
with
a
quite
new
,
envious
glance
at
the
grass
,
the
wormwood
,
and
the
streamlet
of
smoke
that
curled
up
from
the
rotating
black
ball
.
"
I
can
not
,
I
do
not
wish
to
die
.
I
love
life
--
I
love
this
grass
,
this
earth
,
this
air
...
"
He
thought
this
,
and
at
the
same
time
remembered
that
people
were
looking
at
him
.
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"
It
's
shameful
,
sir
!
"
he
said
to
the
adjutant
.
"
What
...
"
He
did
not
finish
speaking
.
At
one
and
the
same
moment
came
the
sound
of
an
explosion
,
a
whistle
of
splinters
as
from
a
breaking
window
frame
,
a
suffocating
smell
of
powder
,
and
Prince
Andrew
started
to
one
side
,
raising
his
arm
,
and
fell
on
his
chest
.
Several
officers
ran
up
to
him
.
From
the
right
side
of
his
abdomen
,
blood
was
welling
out
making
a
large
stain
on
the
grass
.
The
militiamen
with
stretchers
who
were
called
up
stood
behind
the
officers
.
Prince
Andrew
lay
on
his
chest
with
his
face
in
the
grass
,
breathing
heavily
and
noisily
.
"
What
are
you
waiting
for
?
Come
along
!
"
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The
peasants
went
up
and
took
him
by
his
shoulders
and
legs
,
but
he
moaned
piteously
and
,
exchanging
looks
,
they
set
him
down
again
.
"
Pick
him
up
,
lift
him
,
it
's
all
the
same
!
"
cried
someone
.
They
again
took
him
by
the
shoulders
and
laid
him
on
the
stretcher
.