Война и мир

Chapter 17

           Closetothecorner,onanovercoat,satanold,unshaven,gray-beardedsoldierasthinasaskeleton,withasternsallowfaceandeyesintentlyfixedonRostóv.Theman’sneighborononesidewhisperedsomethingtohim,pointingatRostóv,whonoticedthattheoldmanwantedtospeaktohim.Hedrewnearerandsawthattheoldmanhadonlyonelegbentunderhim,theotherhadbeenamputatedabovetheknee.Hisneighborontheotherside,wholaymotionlesssomedistancefromhimwithhisheadthrownback,wasayoungsoldierwithasnubnose.Hispalewaxenfacewasstillfreckledandhiseyeswererolledback.Rostóvlookedattheyoungsoldierandacoldchillrandownhisback.

           “Why,thisoneseems...”hebegan,turningtotheassistant.

           “Andhowwe’vebeenbegging,yourhonor,”saidtheoldsoldier,hisjawquivering.“He’sbeendeadsincemorning.Afterallwe’remen,notdogs.”

           “I’llsendsomeoneatonce.Heshallbetakenaway—takenawayatonce,”saidtheassistanthurriedly.“Letusgo,yourhonor.”

           “Yes,yes,letusgo,”saidRostóvhastily,andloweringhiseyesandshrinking,hetriedtopassunnoticedbetweentherowsofreproachfulenviouseyesthatwerefixeduponhim,andwentoutoftheroom.

           

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