Chapter 9

           

           ScarcelyhadPierrelaidhisheadonthepillowbeforehefelthimselffallingasleep,butsuddenly,almostwiththedistinctnessofreality,heheardtheboom,boom,boomoffiring,thethudofprojectiles,groansandcries,andsmelledbloodandpowder,andafeelingofhorroranddreadofdeathseizedhim.Filledwithfrightheopenedhiseyesandliftedhisheadfromunderhiscloak.Allwastranquilintheyard.Onlysomeone’sorderlypassedthroughthegateway,splashingthroughthemud,andtalkedtotheinnkeeper.AbovePierre’sheadsomepigeons,disturbedbythemovementhehadmadeinsittingup,flutteredunderthedarkroofofthepenthouse.Thewholecourtyardwaspermeatedbyastrongpeacefulsmellofstableyards,delightfultoPierreatthatmoment.Hecouldseetheclearstarryskybetweenthedarkroofsoftwopenthouses.

           “ThankGod,thereisnomoreofthat!”hethought,coveringuphisheadagain.“Oh,whataterriblethingisfear,andhowshamefullyIyieldedtoit!Butthey...theyweresteadyandcalmallthetime,totheend...”thoughthe.

           They,inPierre’smind,werethesoldiers,thosewhohadbeenatthebattery,thosewhohadgivenhimfood,andthosewhohadprayedbeforetheicon.They,thosestrangemenhehadnotpreviouslyknown,stoodoutclearlyandsharplyfromeveryoneelse.

           “Tobeasoldier,justasoldier!”thoughtPierreashefellasleep,“toentercommunallifecompletely,tobeimbuedbywhatmakesthemwhattheyare.Buthowtocastoffallthesuperfluous,devilishburdenofmyouterman?TherewasatimewhenIcouldhavedoneit.

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