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sar—every feature； every movement—seemed to him full of charm。
Halting before the Pavlograd regiment； the Tsar said something in French to the Austrian Emperor and smiled。
Seeing that smile； Rostov unconsciously began to smile himself and felt an even stronger rush of love for his Emperor。 He longed to express his love for the Tsar in some way。 He knew it was impossible； and he wanted to cry。 The Tsar called up the colonel of the regiment and said a few words to him。
“By God！ what would happen to me if the Emperor were to address me！” thought Rostov； “I should die of happiness。”
The Tsar addressed the officers； too。
“All of you； gentlemen” （every word sounded to Rostov like heavenly music）； “I thank you with all my heart。”
How happy Rostov would have been if he could have died on the spot for his Emperor。
“You have won the flags of St。 George and will be worthy of them。”
“Only to die； to die for him！” thought Rostov。
The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not catch； and the soldiers； straining their lungs； roared “hurrah！”
Rostov； too； bending over in his saddle； shouted with all his might； feeling he would like to do himself some injury by this shout； if only he could give full expression to his enthusiasm for the Tsar。
The Tsar stood for several seconds facing the hussars； as though he were hesitating。
“How could the Emperor hesitate？” Rostov wondered； but then； even that hesitation seemed to him majestic and enchanting； like all the Tsar did。
The Tsar’s hesitation lasted only an instant。 The Tsar’s foot； in the narrow…pointed boot of the day； touched the belly of the bay English thoroughbred he was riding。 The Tsar’s hand in its white glove gathered up the reins and he moved off； accompanied by the irregularly heaving sea of adjutants。 Further and further he rode away； stopping at the other regiments； and at last the white plume of his hat was all that Rostov could see above the suite that encircled the Emperors。
Among the gentlemen of the suite； Rostov noticed Bolkonsky； sitting his horse in a slack； indolent pose。 Rostov remembered his quarrel with him on the previous day and his doubt whether he ought or ought not to challenge him。 “Of course； I ought not；” Rostov reflected now。…”And is it worth thinking and speaking of it at such a moment as the present？ At the moment of such a feeling of love； enthusiasm； and self…sacrifice； what are all our slights and squabbles？ I love every one； I forgive every one at this moment；” thought Rostov。
When the Tsar had made the round of almost all the regiments； the troops began to file by him in a parade march； and Rostov on Bedouin； which he had lately bought from Denisov； was the officer at the rear； that is； had to pass last； alone； and directly in view of the Tsar。
Before he reached the Tsar； Rostov； who was a capital horseman； set spurs twice to his Bedouin； and succeeded in forcing him into that frantic form of gallop into which Bedouin always dropped when he was excited。 Bending his foaming nose to his chest； arching his tail； and seeming to skim through the air without touching the earth； Bedouin； as though he； too； were conscious of the Tsar’s eye upon him； flew by in superb style； with a graceful high action of his legs。
Rostov himself drew back his legs and drew in his stomach； and feeling himself all of a piece with his horse； rode by the Tsar with a frowning but blissful face； looking a regular devil； as Denisov used to say。
“Bravo； Pavlograds！” said the Tsar。
“My God！ shouldn’t I be happy if he bade me fling myself into fire this instant；” thought Rostov。
When the review was over； the officers； both of the reinforcements and of Kutuzov’s army； began to gather together in groups。 Conversations sprang up about the honours that had been conferred； about the Austrians and their uniforms； and their front line； about Bonaparte and the bad time in store for him now； especially when Essen’s corps； too； should arrive； and Prussia should take our side。 But the chief subject of conversation in every circle was the Emperor Alexander； every word he had uttered； every gesture was described and expatiated upon with enthusiasm。
There was but one desire in all： under the Emperor’s leadership to face the enemy as soon as possible。 Under the command of the Emperor himself they would not fail to conquer any one whatever： so thought Rostov and most of the officers after the review。
After the review they all felt more certain of victory than they could have been after two decisive victories。
Chapter 9
THE DAY AFTER THE REVIEW Boris Drubetskoy put on his best uniform； and accompanied by his comrade Berg’s good wishes for his success； rode to Olmütz to see Bolkonsky； in the hope of profiting by his friendliness to obtain a better position； especially the position of an adjutant in attendance on some personage of importance； a post which seemed to him particularly alluring。
“It’s all very well for Rostov； whose father sends him ten thousand at a time； to talk about not caring to cringe to any one； and not being a lackey to any man。 But I； with nothing of my own but my brains； have my career to make； and mustn’t let opportunities slip； but must make the most of them。”
He did not find Prince Andrey at Olmütz that day。 But the sight of Olmütz—where were the headquarters and the diplomatic corps； and where both Emperors with their suites； their households； and their court； were staying—only strengthened his desire to belong to this upper world。
He knew no one； and in spite of his smart guardsman’s uniform； all these exalted persons； racing to and fro about the streets in their elegant carriages； plumes； ribbons； and orders； courtiers and military alike； all seemed to be so immeasurably above him； a little officer in the Guards； as to be not simply unwilling； but positively unable to recognise his existence。 At the quarters of the commander…in…chief； Kutuzov； where he asked for Bolkonsky； all the adjutants and even the orderlies looked at him as though they wished to impress on him that a great many officers of his sort came hanging about here； and that they were all heartily sick of seeing them。 In spite of this； or rather in consequence of it； he went again the following day； the 15th； after dinner； to Olmütz； and going into the house occupied by Kutuzov； asked for Bolkonsky。 Prince Andrey was at home； and Boris was ushered into a large room； probably at some time used for dancing。 Now there were five bedsteads in it and furniture of various kinds： a table； chairs； a clavichord。 One adjutant was sitting in a Persian dressing…gown writing at a table near the door。 Another； the stout； red…faced Nesvitsky； was lying on a bed； his arms under his head； laughing with an officer sitting by the bedside。 A third was playing a Vienna waltz on the clavichord； while a fourth lay on the clavichord； humming to the tune。 Bolkonsky was not in the room。 Not one of these gentlemen changed his position on observing Boris。 The one who was writing； on being applied to by Boris； turned round with an air of annoyance； and told him that Bolkonsky was the adjutant on duty； and that he should go to the door to the left； into the reception…room；