Война и мир

Chapter 21

           Thepaininhisarmbecamemoreandmoreintense.Irresistibledrowsinessoverpoweredhim,redringsdancedbeforehiseyes,andtheimpressionofthosevoicesandfacesandasenseoflonelinessmergedwiththephysicalpain.Itwasthey,thesesoldiers—woundedandunwounded—itwastheywhowerecrushing,weighingdown,andtwistingthesinewsandscorchingthefleshofhissprainedarmandshoulder.Toridhimselfofthemheclosedhiseyes.

           Foramomenthedozed,butinthatshortintervalinnumerablethingsappearedtohiminadream:hismotherandherlargewhitehand,Sónya’sthinlittleshoulders,Natásha’seyesandlaughter,Denísovwithhisvoiceandmustache,andTelyáninandallthataffairwithTelyáninandBogdánich.Thataffairwasthesamethingasthissoldierwiththeharshvoice,anditwasthataffairandthissoldierthatweresoagonizingly,incessantlypullingandpressinghisarmandalwaysdraggingitinonedirection.Hetriedtogetawayfromthem,buttheywouldnotforaninstantlethisshouldermoveahair’sbreadth.Itwouldnotache—itwouldbewell—ifonlytheydidnotpullit,butitwasimpossibletogetridofthem.

           Heopenedhiseyesandlookedup.Theblackcanopyofnighthunglessthanayardabovetheglowofthecharcoal.Flakesoffallingsnowwereflutteringinthatlight.Túshinhadnotreturned,thedoctorhadnotcome.Hewasalonenow,exceptforasoldierwhowassittingnakedattheothersideofthefire,warminghisthinyellowbody.

           “Nobodywantsme!”thoughtRostóv.“Thereisnoonetohelpmeorpityme

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