Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
even live at all here?" thought Rostov,
still aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong
in the soldiers ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those
envious looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face
of that young soldier with eyes rolled back.
Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket,
though it was nearly noon.
"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in
the same voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under
this habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling
showed itself in the expression of Denisovs face and the
intonations of his voice.
His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six
weeks after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as
the faces of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that
struck Rostov. What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to
see him, and smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the
regiment, nor about the general state of affairs, and when Rostov
spoke of these matters did not listen.
Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of the
regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on
outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was
only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On
Rostovs inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced from
under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the
rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began
reading his paper and specially drew Rostovs attention to the
stinging rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions,
who had gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world
outside--gradually began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading
his answer. Rostov noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had
already heard that story more than once and were tired of it. Only the
man who had the next bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his bed,
gloomily frowning and smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin
still listened, shaking his head disapprovingly. In the middle of the
reading, the Uhlan interrupted Denisov.
"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best
simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will
now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...."
"Me petition the Empewo!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he
tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like
an expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber
I would ask mercy, but Im being court-martialed for bwinging
wobbers to book. Let them twy me, Im not afwaid of anyone. Ive
served the Tsar and my countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I
to be degwaded?... Listen, Im witing to them stwaight. This is
what I say: If I had wobbed the Tweasuwy..."
"Its certainly well written," said Tushin, "but thats not the
point, Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to
submit, and Vasili Dmitrich doesnt want to. You know the auditor told
you it was a bad business."
"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov.
"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and
you ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he"
(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You wont find a
"Havent I said Im not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him,
went on reading his paper.
Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he
instinctively felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other
officers was the safest, and though he would have been glad to be of
service to Denisov. He knew his stubborn will and straightforward
When the reading of Denisovs virulent reply, which took more than an
hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the day
in a most dejected state of mind amid Denisovs hospital comrades, who
had gathered round him, telling them what he knew and listening to
their stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening.
Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked
Denisov whether he had no commission for him.
"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers,
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