War And Peace: Book 15 - CHAPTER IX

Description

THE FIFTH COMPANY was bivouacking close up to the birch copse. An immense

camp-fire was blazing brightly in the middle of the snow, lighting up the

rime-covered boughs of the trees.

In the middle of the night the soldiers had heard footsteps and the cracking

of branches in the copse.

“A bear, lads,” said one soldier.

All raised their heads and listened; and out of the copse there stepped into

the bright light of the fire two strangely garbed human figures clinging to one

another. These were two Frenchmen, who had been hiding in the wood. Hoarsely

articulating something in a tongue incomprehensible to the soldiers, they

approached the fire. One, wearing an officer's hat, was rather the taller, and

seemed utterly spent. He tried to sit down by the fire, but sank on to the

ground. The other, a little, stumpy man, with a kerchief bound round his cheeks,

was stronger. He held his companion up, and said something pointing to his

mouth. The soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen, laid a coat under the sick man,

and brought both of them porridge and vodka. The exhausted French officer was

Ramballe; the little man bandaged up in the kerchief was his servant,

Morel.

When Morel had drunk some vodka and eaten a bowl of porridge, he suddenly

passed into a state of morbid hilarity, and kept up an incessant babble with the

soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food, and leaning on

one elbow by the fire, gazed dumbly with red, vacant eyes at the Russian

soldiers. At intervals he uttered a prolonged groan and then was mute again.

Morel, pointing to his shoulders, gave the soldiers to understand that this was

an officer, and that he needed warmth. A Russian officer, who had come up to the

fire, sent to ask the colonel whether he would take a French officer into his

warm cottage. When they came back and said that the colonel bade them bring the

officer, they told Ramballe to go to him. He got up and tried to walk, but

staggered, and would have fallen had not a soldier standing near caught

him.

“What? You don't want to, eh?” said a soldier addressing Ramballe with a

jocose wink.

“Eh, you fool! It's no time for your fooling. A peasant, a real peasant,”

voices were heard on all sides blaming the jocose soldier. The others surrounded

Ramballe. Two of them held him up under the arms and carried him to the cottage.

Ramballe put his arms round the soldiers' necks, and as they lifted him he began

wailing plaintively.

“O you good fellows! O my kind, kind friends. These are men! O my brave, kind

friends”; and like a child he put his head down on the soldier's shoulder.

Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place surrounded by the

soldiers.

Morel, a little, thickset Frenchman, with swollen, streaming eyes, was

dressed in a woman's jacket and had a woman's kerchief tied over his forage cap.

He was evidently tipsy, and with one arm thrown round the soldier sitting next

him, he was singing a French song in a husky, broken voice. The soldiers simply

held their sides as they looked at him.

“Now then, now then, teach it me; how does it go? I'll catch it in no time.

How was it?” said the soldier Morel was hugging, who was one of the singers and

fond of a joke.

“Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi vaillant! …” sang Morel, winking.

“Ce diable à quatre …”

“Vi-va-ri-ka! Viff-se-ru-va-ru! Si-dya-blya-ka!…” repeated the

soldier, waving his hand and catching the tune correctly.

“Bravo! Ho-ho-ho-ho!” a hoarse guffaw of delight rose on all sides. Morel,

wrinkling up his face, laughed too.

“Come, strike up, more, more!”

“Qui eut le triple talent de boire, de battre, et d'être un vert

galant.”

“That sounds well too. Now, Zaletaev!…”

“Kyu,” Zaletaev articulated with effort. “Kyu-yu-yu …” he sang,

puckering up his lips elaborately;

“le-trip-ta-la-de-boo-de-ba-ce-detra-va-ga-la.”

“That's fine! That's a fine Frenchman, to be sure! oy … ho-ho-ho. Well, do

you want some more to eat?”

“Give him some porridge; it'll take him some time to satisfy his

hunger.”

They gave him more porridge, and Morel, laughing, attacked a third bowlful.

There were gleeful smiles on the faces of all the young soldiers watching him.

The old soldiers, considering it beneath their dignity to show interest in such

trifles, lay on the other side of the fire, but now and then one would raise

himself on his elbow and glance with a smile at Morel.

“They are men, too,” said one, rolling himself up in his coat. “Even the

wormwood has its roots.”

“O Lord! What lots of stars! It's a sign of frost …” And all sank into

silence.

The stars, as though they knew no one would see them now, were twinkling

brightly in the black sky. Flaring up and growing dim again, and quivering, they

seemed to be busily signalling some joyful mystery to each other.

$$ Buy "War And Peace: Book 15 - CHAPTER IX" on Amazon $$

Please check the description for download links if any or do a search to find alternative books.

Can't Download?
Please search mirrors if you can't find download links for "War And Peace: Book 15 - CHAPTER IX" in "Description" and someone else may update the links. Check the comments when back to find any updates.

Search Mirrors
Maybe some mirror pages will be helpful, search this book at top of this page or click here to find more info.

1. Ebooks list page : 85
2. War And Peace: Book 4 - CHAPTER V
3. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER III
4. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER II
5. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER I
6. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER IV
7. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XIX
8. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XVI
9. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XV
10. War And Peace: Book 3 - CHAPTER XIV
11. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER V
12. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER VI
13. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XIX
14. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XVI
15. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XIV
16. War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XV