Chapter 14

           

           Itwasnearlythreeo’clockbutnoonewasyetasleep,whenthequartermasterappearedwithanordertomoveontothelittletownofOstróvna.Stilllaughingandtalking,theofficersbeganhurriedlygettingreadyandagainboiledsomemuddywaterinthesamovar.ButRostóvwentofftohissquadronwithoutwaitingfortea.Daywasbreaking,therainhadceased,andthecloudsweredispersing.Itfeltdampandcold,especiallyinclothesthatwerestillmoist.Astheyleftthetaverninthetwilightofthedawn,RostóvandIlyínbothglancedunderthewetandglisteningleatherhoodofthedoctor’scart,fromundertheapronofwhichhisfeetwerestickingout,andinthemiddleofwhichhiswife’snightcapwasvisibleandhersleepybreathingaudible.

           “Shereallyisadearlittlething,”saidRostóvtoIlyín,whowasfollowinghim.

           “Acharmingwoman!”saidIlyín,withallthegravityofaboyofsixteen.

           Halfanhourlaterthesquadronwaslinedupontheroad.Thecommandwasheardto“mount”andthesoldierscrossedthemselvesandmounted.Rostóvridinginfrontgavetheorder“Forward!”andthehussars,withclankingsabersandsubduedtalk,theirhorses’hoofssplashinginthemud,defiledinfoursandmovedalongthebroadroadplantedwithbirchtreesoneachside,followingtheinfantryandabatterythathadgoneoninfront.

           Tattered,blue-purpleclouds,reddeningintheeast,werescuddingbeforethewind.Itwasgrowinglighterandlighter.

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