Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
on this advice. In the evening he
came back to his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen
him in. Denisov could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov
asked what was the matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and
threats in a hoarse, feeble voice.
Alarmed at Denisovs condition, Rostov suggested that he should
undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor.
"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but
Ill always thwash scoundwels... and Ill tell the Empewo...
Ice..." he muttered.
The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely
necessary to bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken
from his hairy arm and only then was he able to relate what had
happened to him.
"I get there," began Denisov. "Now then, wheres your chiefs
quarters? They were pointed out. Please to wait. Ive widden
twenty miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait.
Announce me. Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it
into his head to lecture me: Its wobbewy!--Wobbewy, I say, is
not done by man who seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him
who takes them to fill his own pockets! Will you please be silent?
Vewy good! Then he says: Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner,
but your affair will be passed on to headquarters. I go to the
commissioner. I enter, and at the table... who do you think? No, but
wait a bit!... Who is it thats starving us?" shouted Denisov, hitting
the table with the fist of his newly bled arm so violently that the
table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped about.
"Telyanin! What? So its you whos starving us to death! Is it? Take
this and this! and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his snout... Ah,
what a... what a...! and I stated fwashing him... Well, Ive had a
bit of fun I can tell you!" cried Denisov, gleeful and yet angry, his
white teeth showing under his black mustache. "Id have killed him if
they hadnt taken him away!"
"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "Youve
set your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again."
Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke
calm and cheerful.
But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostovs and
Denisovs dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully
showed them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental
commander in which inquiries were made about yesterdays occurrence.
The adjutant told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad
turn: that a court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the
severity with which marauding and insubordination were now regarded,
degradation to the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for.
The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after
seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the
chief quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief,
threatened to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the
office and given two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm
of one of them.
In answer to Rostovs renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing,
that he thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed
up in it, but that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not
in the least fear any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels
dared attack him he would give them an answer that they would not
Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew
him too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart
he feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was
evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices
from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered
to hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before
the staff of his division to explain his violence at the
commissariat office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two
Cossack regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his
wont, rode out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A
bullet fired by a French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of
his leg. Perhaps at another time Denisov would not have left the
regiment for so slight a wound, but now he
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