Rostov suddenly noticed that the prisoners were being led away, and he galloped after them to have a look at his Frenchman with a dimple in his chin. He was sitting astride one of their pack-horses dressed in his funny uniform, staring around uneasily.
The scratch on his arm wasn’t really a wound. He looked at Rostov with a forced smile and waved a greeting. Rostov still felt embarrassed and somehow ashamed.
All that day and the next Rostov’s friends and comrades noticed that, without being exactly morose or snappy with them, he was quiet, pensive and in a world of his own. He was reluctant to accept a drink, he wanted to be left alone and he seemed permanently preoccupied.
Rostov couldn’t take his mind off the brilliant exploit which, to his astonishment, had won him the St George’s Cross and a heroic reputation. There was something odd about it. ‘It turns out they’re even more scared than we are,’ he thought. ‘Is this it then? Is this what they mean by heroism? Did I really do it for my country? And what has he done wrong with his dimple and his blue eyes? He was so scared! He thought I was going to kill him. Why should I want to kill him? My hand shook. And they’ve given me the George Cross! I can’t see it, I just can’t see it!’
But even as Nikolay turned these things over in his mind without being able to work out what was wrong with him, the wheel of fortune was turning, as it so often does in the army, and turning in his favour. After Ostrovna he came to prominence and was put in command of a battalion. From now on they called on him whenever there was a need for an officer of outstanding bravery.
CHAPTER 16
The moment Countess Rostov received news of Natasha’s illness, even though she was still poorly and had little strength, she left for Moscow immediately with Petya and the whole household; the other Rostovs moved over from Marya Dmitriyevna’s house and they all settled down together in their own home.
