按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
baggage…waggons； which were drawn up all together。 Some fed the horses； while others got out cooking…pots and biscuits。 A third section dispersed about the village； getting the cottages ready for the staff…officers； carrying out the dead bodies of the French lying in the huts； and dragging away boards； dry wood； and straw from the thatch roofs； to furnish fuel for their fires and materials for the shelters they rigged up。
Behind the huts at the end of the village fifteen soldiers were trying with merry shouts to pull down the high wattle wall of a barn from which they had already removed the roof。
“Now then； a strong pull； all together！” shouted the voices； and in the dark the huge； snow…sprinkled boards of the wall began to give。 The lower stakes of the wattle cracked more and more often； and at last the wattle wall heaved over； together with the soldiers； who were hanging onto it。 A loud shout and the roar of coarse merriment followed。
“Work at it in twos！ give us a lever here！ that’s it。 Where are you coming to？”
“Now； all together。… But wait； lads！ … With a shout！” …
All were silent； and a low voice of velvety sweetness began singing a song。 At the end of the third verse； as the last note died away； twenty voices roared out in chorus； “O…O…O…O…O！ It’s coming！ Pull away！ Heave away； lads！ …” but in spite of their united efforts the wall hardly moved； and in the silence that followed the men could be heard panting for breath。
“Hi； you there； of the sixth company！ You devils； you！ Lend us a hand … We’ll do you a good turn one day！”
Twenty men of the sixth company； who were passing； joined them； and the wattle wall； thirty…five feet in length； and seven feet in breadth； was dragged along the village street； falling over； and cutting the shoulders of the panting soldiers。
“Go on； do。 … Heave away； you there。… What are you stopping for？ Eh； there？” …
The merry shouts of unseemly abuse never ceased。
“What are you about？” cried a peremptory voice； as a sergeant ran up to the party。 “There are gentry here； the general himself’s in the hut here； and you devils； you curs； you！ I’ll teach you！” shouted the sergeant； and sent a swinging blow at the back of the first soldier he could come across。 “Can’t you go quietly？”
The soldiers were quiet。 The soldier who had received the blow began grumbling； as he rubbed his bleeding face； which had been scratched by his being knocked forward against the wattle。
“Ay； the devil； how he does hit a fellow！ Why； he has set all my face bleeding；” he said in a timid whisper； as the sergeant walked away。 “And you don’t enjoy it； eh？” said a laughing voice； and the soldiers； moderating their voices； moved on。 As they got out of the village； they began talking as loudly again； interspersing their talk with the same meaningless oaths。
In the hut by which the soldiers had passed there were assembled the chief officers in command； and an eager conversation was going on over their tea about that day’s doings and the man？uvres proposed for the night。 The plan was to execute a flank movement to the left； cut off and capture the viceroy。
By the time the soldiers had dragged the fence to its place they found blazing fires； cooking supper on all sides。 The firewood was crackling； the snow was melting； and the black shadows of soldiers were flitting to and fro all over the space between trampled down in the snow。
Axes and cutlasses were at work on all sides。 Everything was done without a word of command being given。 Wood was piled up for a supply of fuel through the night； shanties were being rigged up for the officers； pots were being boiled； and arms and accoutrements set to rights。
The wattle wall was set up in a semicircle to give shelter from the north； propped up by stakes； and before it was built a camp…fire。 They beat the tattoo…call； counted over their number； had supper； and settled themselves round the fires—some repairing their foot…gear； some smoking pipes； others stripped naked trying to steam the lice out of their clothes。
Chapter 8
ONE would naturally have expected that in the almost inconceivably wretched conditions in which the Russian soldiers were placed at that time—without thick boots； without fur coats； without a roof over their heads in the snow； with a frost of eighteen degrees； often without full rations—they must have presented a most melancholy and depressing spectacle。
It was quite the opposite。 Never under the most favourable material conditions had the army worn a livelier and more cheerful aspect。 This was due to the fact that every element that showed signs of depression or weakness was sifted every day out of the army。 All the physically and morally weak had long ago been left behind。 What was left was the pick of the army—in strength of body and of spirit。
The camp…fire of the eighth company； screened by their wattle fence； attracted a greater crowd than any。 Two sergeants were sitting by it； and the fire was blazing more brightly than any of them。 They insisted on logs being brought in return for the right of sitting under the screen。
“Hi； Makyev； hullo … are you lost； or have the wolves eaten you？ Fetch some wood；” shouted a red…faced； red…haired soldier； screwing up his eyes； and blinking from the smoke； but not moving back from the fire。
“You run； Crow； and fetch some wood；” he cried； addressing another soldier。 The red…headed man was not a non…commissioned officer； nor a corporal； but he was a sturdy fellow； and so he gave orders to those who were weaker than himself。 A thin； little soldier； with a sharp nose； who was called the “Crow；” got up submissively； and was about to obey； but at that moment there stepped into the light of the fire the slender； hand…some figure of a young soldier； carrying a load of wood。
“Give it here。 Well； that’s something like！”
They broke up the wood and threw it on； blew up the fire with their mouths； and fanned it with the skirts of their coats； and the flame began to hiss and crackle。 The soldiers drew nearer the fire and lighted their pipes。 The handsome young soldier who had brought in the wood put his arms akimbo； and began a smart and nimble shuffle with his frozen feet as he stood。
“Ah； mother dear； the dew is cold； but yet it is fine； and a musketeer！” … he began singing； with a sort of hiccup at each syllable of the song。
“Hey； his soles are flying off！” cried the red…haired man； noticing that the dancer’s soles were loose。 “He’s a rare devil for dancing！”
The dancer stopped； tore off the loose leather； and flung it in the fire。
“You’re right there； brother；” said he； and sitting down he took out of his knapsack a strip of French blue cloth； and began binding it round his foot。 “It’s the steam that warps them；” he added； stretching his feet out to the fire。
“They’ll soon serve us new ones。 They say when we finish them off； we are all to have a double lot of stuff。”
“I say； that son of a bitch； Petrov； has sneaked off； it seems；” said a sergeant。
“It’s a long while since I’ve noticed him；” said the other。
“Oh； well； a poor sort of soldier …”
“And in the third company； they were saying； there were nine men missing at the roll…ca