War and Peace: Original Version. Лев Толстой

excellency …”

      “What’s that, ‘your excellency’? Your excellency, your excellency! But what’s wrong, your excellency, nobody knows.”

      “Your excellency, that’s Dolokhov, the demoted …” the captain said quietly, with an expression which seemed to suggest that in a case of demotion, an exception could be made.

      “What, has he been demoted to field-marshal, or to private? If he’s a private, he must be dressed the same as everyone else, in regulation uniform.”

      “Your excellency, you yourself gave him permission on the march.”

      “Permission? I gave permission? You’re always the same, you young people,” said the regimental commander, cooling down a little. “I gave permission. Say anything to you and you go and … What?” he said, growing irritated again. “Be so good as to dress the men properly.”

      And, after glancing round at the adjutant, the regimental commander set off towards the regiment, with that swaggering gait that still somehow expressed a certain partiality for the fair sex. It was clear that he was enjoying his own irritation and as he passed along the line of the regiment, he sought further pretexts for his wrath. After upbraiding one officer for a poorly polished badge and another for the unevenness of his line, he approached the third company.

      “What way is that to stand? Where’s your leg? Where is it?” the regimental commander yelled with a note of suffering in his voice, when he was still five men away from the soldier dressed in the bluish greatcoat.

      This soldier, who differed from all the others in the fresh complexion of his face and especially of his neck, slowly straightened out his bent leg and looked the general straight in the face with his bright and insolent gaze.

      “Why the blue greatcoat? Off with it! Sergeant-major! Change his coat … the rott …” He was not able to finish what he was saying.

      “General, I am obliged to carry out orders, but not obliged to endure …” the soldier said with passionate haste.

      “No talking in the ranks! No talking, no talking!”

      “… not obliged to endure insults,” Dolokhov said in a loud, resonant voice with an expression of unnatural solemnity that struck everyone who heard him unpleasantly. The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general fell silent, and he angrily tugged at his tight scarf.

      “Be so good as to change your dress, if you please,” he said, walking away.

      II

      “He’s coming!” a signalman shouted at just that moment.

      The regimental commander, flushing, ran up to his horse, took hold of the stirrup with trembling hands, threw his body across, righted himself, drew his sword and, with a cheerfully resolute face, his mouth opened to one side, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird settling its feathers and froze.

      “Atten-tion!” shouted the regimental commander in a heart-stopping voice that was happy for himself, strict towards the regiment and welcoming to his approaching superior.

      With its springs rattling gently, the tall, light-blue Viennese carriage harnessed in tandem raced at a brisk trot along the broad unsurfaced road lined with trees, and galloping behind the carriage came the retinue and an escort of Croats. Sitting beside Kutuzov was an Austrian general in a white uniform that looked strange among the black Russian ones. The carriage halted at the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking quietly and Kutuzov smiled gently as stepped down heavily, lowering his foot from the footboard. It was exactly as if those three thousand men holding their breath as they gazed at the two of them and the regimental commander did not even exist.

      A shout of command rang out and again the regiment shuddered as it jangled and presented arms. The commander-in-chief’s weak voice rang out in the deathly silence. The regiment bellowed: “Good Health to You, Your Ex-ex-ex-ency!” And then everything froze again. At first Kutuzov stood still on one spot while the regiment moved, then Kutuzov began walking along the ranks, with the white general beside him and accompanied by the retinue.

      From the way in which the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief, boring into him with his eyes, standing to attention and drawing himself up, the way he leaned forward as he followed the generals along the ranks, scarcely restraining his quivering swagger, the way he jumped at the commander-in-chief’s every word and movement, it was clear that he took even greater pleasure in carrying out the duties of a subordinate than the duties of a superior. Thanks to the strict discipline and diligence of the regimental commander, the regiment was in capital condition in comparison with others that were arriving in Braunau at that time. There were only two hundred and seventeen stragglers and sick. In reply to the chief-of-staff’s question concerning the needs of the regiment the regimental commander, leaning forward, made bold to report in a whisper and with a deep sigh that their footwear had suffered very, very badly.

       KUTUZOV Engraving by Cardelli

      “Well, it’s the same song everywhere,” the chief-of-staff said nonchalantly, smiling at the general’s naïvety and thereby indicating that what seemed to the regimental commander to be a peculiar misfortune was the common lot of all the forces who were arriving and it had been foreseen. “You’ll set that to rights here, if you’re quartered here a while.”

      Kutuzov walked along the ranks, halting from time to time and saying a few warm words to officers whom he knew from the Turkish War, and sometimes even to soldiers. Glancing at their shoes, he shook his head sadly several times and pointed them out to the Austrian general with an expression as if he were not reproaching anyone for this, but could not help seeing how bad it was. Each time this happened, the regimental commander ran forwards, afraid of missing what the commander-in-chief was saying about the regiment. Walking behind Kutuzov at a distance from which every softly spoken word could be heard, came the twenty or so members of his retinue. The gentlemen of the retinue clearly did not feel the same superhuman fear and respect for Kutuzov as the regimental commander was exhibiting. They were talking among themselves and sometimes laughing. Walking closest of all behind the commander-in-chief was a handsome adjutant. It was Prince Bolkonsky. Walking alongside him was a tall cavalry staff officer, extremely fat, with a kind, smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. This massive officer could hardly restrain the laughter provoked by the dark-haired officer of the hussars walking alongside him. This cornet officer of the hussars was staring, with a straight face and fixed expression in his eyes, at the regimental commander’s back and mimicking his every movement with a serious expression. Every time the regimental commander quivered and leaned forward, the officer of hussars quivered and leaned forward in precisely the same way. The fat adjutant laughed and nudged the others to get them to watch the amusing fellow.

      “Mais voyez donc, do look,” said the fat officer, nudging Prince Andrei. Kutuzov walked slowly and listlessly past the thousands of eyes that were rolling out of their sockets as they tried to follow the commander. On drawing level with the third company, he suddenly halted. The retinue, not having anticipated this halt, involuntarily advanced closer to him.

      “Ah, Timokhin!” said the commander-in-chief, recognising the captain with the red nose who had been rebuked for the blue greatcoat.

      It had seemed quite impossible to stand more rigidly to attention than Timokhin had stood when the regimental commander was rebuking him. But when the commander-in-chief addressed him, he drew himself up so very far that had the commander-in-chief looked at him a moment longer, the captain would have been quite incapable of sustaining his pose, and so Kutuzov, clearly understanding his situation and wishing the captain, on the contrary, nothing but good, hastily turned away. A barely perceptible smile ran across