Chapter 13

           

           Thatsamenight,RostóvwaswithaplatoononskirmishingdutyinfrontofBagratión’sdetachment.Hishussarswereplacedalongthelineincouplesandhehimselfrodealongthelinetryingtomasterthesleepinessthatkeptcomingoverhim.Anenormousspace,withourarmy’scampfiresdimlyglowinginthefog,couldbeseenbehindhim;infrontofhimwasmistydarkness.Rostóvcouldseenothing,peerashewouldintothatfoggydistance:nowsomethinggleamedgray,nowtherewassomethingblack,nowlittlelightsseemedtoglimmerwheretheenemyoughttobe,nowhefancieditwasonlysomethinginhisowneyes.Hiseyeskeptclosing,andinhisfancyappeared—nowtheEmperor,nowDenísov,andnowMoscowmemories—andheagainhurriedlyopenedhiseyesandsawclosebeforehimtheheadandearsofthehorsehewasriding,andsometimes,whenhecamewithinsixpacesofthem,theblackfiguresofhussars,butinthedistancewasstillthesamemistydarkness.“Whynot?...Itmighteasilyhappen,”thoughtRostóv,“thattheEmperorwillmeetmeandgivemeanorderashewouldtoanyotherofficer;he’llsay:‘Goandfindoutwhat’sthere.

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