In their flight from Moscow, the soldiers carried with them all e plunder they had collected. Napoleon, too, carried off his own priie tresor. Seeing the great train of waggons, loaded with the booty of e army, Napoleon was alarmed (as Thiers tells us). But with his militv experience, he did not order all unnecessary waggons of goods toe burnt, as he had done with a marshal’s baggage on the way to Mosc. He gazed at those carts and carriages, filled with soldiers, and said ft it was very well, that those conveyances would come in useful for j- visions, the sick, and the wounded.
The plight of the army was like the plight of a wounded beast, tt feels its death at hand, and knows not what it is doing. Studying e intricate manoeuvres and schemes of Napoleon and his army from e time of entering Moscow up to the time of the destruction of that ary is much like watching the death struggles and convulsions of a bet mortally wounded. Very often the wounded creature, hearing a s|, rushes to meet the hunter’s shot, runs forward and back again, and it:I hastens its end. Napoleon under the pressure of his army did likew Panic-stricken at the rumour of the battle of Tarutino, like a wild be; the army made a rush towards the shot, reached the hunter, and ran b;; again; and at last, like every wild creature took the old familiar tra that was the worst and most disastrous way for it.
Napoleon is represented to us as the leader in all this movement, ji as the figurehead in the prow of a ship to the savage seems the force til guides the ship on its course. Napoleon in his activity all this time vt like a child, sitting in a carriage, pulling the straps within it, and fair ing he is moving it along.
XI
Early in the morning of the 6th of October, Pierre came out of the sb and when he went back, he stood in the doorway, playing with the lc bandy-legged, purplish-grey dog, that jumped about him. This dog li\ in their shed, sleeping with Karataev, though it sometimes went off on
c r n account into the town, and came back again. It had probably never Ilonged to any one, and now it had no master, and no name. The lench called it Azor; the soldier who told stories called it Femgalka; Iirataev called it ‘Grey-coat,’ and sometimes ‘Floppy.’ The lack of a rister, of a name, of any particular breed, and even of a definite colour, 1 no means troubled the purplish-grey dog. Its fluffy tail stood up firm ad round like a plume; its bandy legs served it so well that often, as tDUgh disdaining to use all four, it would hold one hind-leg gracefully i];, and run very quickly and smartly on three paws. Everything was a surce of satisfaction to it. At one moment, it was barking with joy, then i would bask in the sun, with a dreamy and thoughtful air, then it vuld frolic about, playing with a chip or a straw.
Pierre’s attire now consisted of a dirty, tattered shirt, the sole relic left r his previous wardrobe, a pair of soldier’s drawers, tied with string rund the ankles by Karataev’s advice, for the sake of warmth, a full [asant’s coat and a peasant’s cap. Physically Pierre had changed greatly cring this period. He no longer seemed stout, though he still had that bk of solidity and strength that was characteristic of the Bezuhov f.nily. The lower part of his face was overgrown with beard and mous- t:hes; his long, tangled hair, swarming with lice, formed a mat of curls c his head. His eyes had a look of firmness, calm, and alert readiness, sch as had never been seen in Pierre’s face before. All his old slackness, \iich had shown even in his eyes, was replaced now by a vigorous, alert bk of readiness for action and for resistance, His feet were bare.
Pierre looked over the meadow, across which waggons and men on Irseback were moving that morning, then far away beyond the river, ten at the dog, who was pretending to be meaning to bite him in earnest, ten at his bare feet, which he shifted with pleasure from one position to i other, moving the dirty, thick, big toes. And every time he looked at b bare feet, a smile of eager self-satisfaction flitted across his face, be sight of those bare feet reminded him of all he had passed through ;d learned during this time; and the thought of that was sweet to him.
The weather had for several days been still and clear, with light frosts i the mornings—the so-called ‘old granny’s summer.’
It was warm out of doors in the sunshine, and that warmth was par- t ularly pleasant, with the bracing freshness of the morning frost still i the air.
