Chapter 24

           

           OnthatbrighteveningofAugust25,PrinceAndrewlayleaningonhiselbowinabroken-downshedinthevillageofKnyazkóvoatthefurtherendofhisregiment’sencampment.Throughagapinthebrokenwallhecouldsee,besidethewoodenfence,arowofthirty-year-oldbircheswiththeirlowerbranchesloppedoff,afieldonwhichshocksofoatswerestanding,andsomebushesnearwhichrosethesmokeofcampfires—thesoldiers’kitchens.

           Narrowandburdensomeanduselesstoanyoneashislifenowseemedtohim,PrinceAndrewontheeveofbattlefeltagitatedandirritableashehaddonesevenyearsbeforeatAusterlitz.

           Hehadreceivedandgiventheordersfornextday’sbattleandhadnothingmoretodo.Buthisthoughts—thesimplest,clearest,andthereforemostterriblethoughts—wouldgivehimnopeace.Heknewthattomorrow’sbattlewouldbethemostterribleofallhehadtakenpartin,andforthefirsttimeinhislifethepossibilityofdeathpresenteditselftohim—notinrelationtoanyworldlymatterorwithreferencetoitseffectonothers,butsimplyinrelationtohimself,tohisownsoul—vividly,plainly,terribly,andalmostasacertainty.Andfromtheheightofthisperceptionallthathadpreviouslytormentedandpreoccupiedhimsuddenlybecameilluminedbyacoldwhitelightwithoutshadows,withoutperspective,withoutdistinctionofoutline.Alllifeappearedtohimlikemagic-lanternpicturesatwhichhehadlongbeengazingbyartificiallightthroughaglass.Nowhesuddenlysawthosebadlydaubedpicturesincleardaylightandwithoutaglass.

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