Sevastopol Page 10

water, and he even wanted to drink this, whatever itwas. "I must have brought the blood when I fell," he thought, and,beginning to give way more and more to terror, lest the soldiers whopassed should crush him, he collected all his strength, and tried tocry: "Take me with you!" but, instead of this, he groaned so terriblythat it frightened him to hear himself. Then more red fires flashed inhis eyes--and it seemed to him as though the soldiers were laying stonesupon him; the fires danced more and more rarely, the stones which theypiled on him oppressed him more and more.

  He exerted all his strength, in order to cast off the stones; hestretched himself out, and no longer saw or heard or thought or feltanything. He had been killed on the spot by a splinter of shell, in themiddle of the breast.

  XIII.

  Mikhailoff, on catching sight of the bomb, fell to the earth, and, likePraskukhin, he went over in thought and feeling an incredible amount inthose two seconds while the bomb lay there unexploded. He prayed to Godmentally, and kept repeating: "Thy will be done!"

  "And why did I enter the military service?" he thought at the sametime; "and why, again, did I exchange into the infantry, in order totake part in this campaign? Would it not have been better for me toremain in the regiment of Uhlans, in the town of T., and pass the timewith my friend Natasha? And now this is what has come of it."

  And he began to count, "One, two, three, four," guessing that if itburst on the even number, he would live, but if on the uneven number,then he should be killed. "All is over; killed," he thought, when thebomb burst (he did not remember whether it was on the even or theuneven number), and he felt a blow, and a sharp pain in his head."Lord, forgive my sins," he murmured, folding his hands, then rose, andfell back senseless.

  His first sensation, when he came to himself, was the blood which wasflowing from his nose, and a pain in his head, which had become muchless powerful. "It is my soul departing," he thought.--"What will itbe like _there_? Lord, receive my soul in peace!--But one thing isstrange," he thought,--"and that is that, though dying, I can still hearso plainly the footsteps of the soldiers and the report of the shots."

  "Send some bearers ... hey there ... the captain is killed!" shouted avoice over his head, which he recognized as the voice of his drummerIgnatieff.

  Some one grasped him by the shoulders. He made an effort to open hiseyes, and saw overhead the dark blue heavens, the clusters of stars,and two bombs, which were flying over him, one after the other; he sawIgnatieff, the soldiers with the stretcher, the walls of the trench,and all at once he became convinced that he was not yet in the otherworld.

  He had been slightly wounded in the head with a stone. His very firstimpression was one resembling regret; he had so beautifully and socalmly prepared himself for transit _yonder_ that a return to reality,with its bombs, its trenches, and its blood, produced a disagreeableeffect on him; his second impression was an involuntary joy that hewas alive, and the third a desire to leave the bastion as speedilyas possible. The drummer bound up his commander's head with hishandkerchief, and, taking him under the arm, he led him to the placewhere the bandaging was going on.

  "But where am I going, and why?" thought the staff-captain, whenhe recovered his senses a little.--"It is my duty to remain with mymen,--the more so as they will soon be out of range of the shots," somevoice whispered to him.

  "Never mind, brother," he said, pulling his arm away from the obligingdrummer. "I will not go to the field-hospital; I will remain with mymen."

  And he turned back.

  "You had better have your wound properly attended to, Your Honor,"said Ignatieff. "In the heat of the moment, it seems as if it werea trifle; but it will be the worse if not attended to. There is someinflammation rising there ... really, now, Your Honor."

  Mikhailoff paused for a moment in indecision, and would havefollowed Ignatieff's advice, in all probability, had he not calledto mind how many severely wounded men there must needs be at thefield-hospital. "Perhaps the doctor will smile at my scratch," thoughtthe staff-captain, and he returned with decision to his men, whollyregardless of the drummer's admonitions.

  "And where is Officer Praskukhin, who was walking with me?" he askedthe lieutenant, who was leading the corps when they met.

  "I don't know--killed, probably," replied the lieutenant, reluctantly.

  "How is it that you do not know whether he was killed or wounded? Hewas walking with us. And why have you not carried him with you?"

  "How could it be done, brother, when the place was so hot for us!"

  "Ah, how could you do such a thing, Mikhail Ivanowitch!" saidMikhailoff, angrily.--"How could you abandon him if he was alive; and ifhe was dead, you should still have brought away his body."

  "How could he be alive when, as I tell you, I went up to him and saw!"returned the lieutenant.--"As you like, however! Only, his own men mightcarry him off. Here, you dogs! the cannonade has abated," he added....

  Mikhailoff sat down, and clasped his head, which the motion caused topain him terribly.

  "Yes, I must go and get him, without fail; perhaps he is still alive,"said Mikhailoff. "It is our duty, Mikhail Ivanowitch!"

  Mikhail Ivanowitch made no reply.

  "He did not take him at the time, and now the soldiers must be sentalone--and how can they be sent? their lives may be sacrificed in vain,under that hot fire," thought Mikhailoff.

  "Children! we must go back--and get the officer who was wounded there inthe ditch," he said, in not too loud and commanding a tone, for he felthow unpleasant it would be to the soldiers to obey his order,--and, infact, as he did not address any one in particular by name, no one setout to fulfil it.

  "It is quite possible that he is already dead, and it is _not worthwhile_ to subject the men to unnecessary danger; I alone am to blamefor not having seen to it. I will go myself and learn whether he isalive. It is my duty," said Mikhailoff to himself.

  "Mikhail Ivanowitch! Lead the men forward, and I will overtake you,"he said, and, pulling up his cloak with one hand, and with the otherconstantly touching the image of Saint Mitrofaniy, in which hecherished a special faith, he set off on a run along the trench.

  Having convinced himself that Praskukhin was dead, he dragged himselfback, panting, and supporting with his hand the loosened bandage andhis head, which began to pain him severely. The battalion had alreadyreached the foot of the hill, and a place almost out of range of shots,when Mikhailoff overtook it. I say, _almost_ out of range, because somestray bombs struck here and there.

  "At all events, I must go to the hospital to-morrow, and put down myname," thought the staff-captain, as the medical student assisting thedoctors bound his wound.

  XIV.

  Hundreds of bodies, freshly smeared with blood, of men who two hoursprevious had been filled with divers lofty or petty hopes and desires,now lay, with stiffened limbs, in the dewy, flowery valley whichseparated the bastion from the trench, and on the level floor of thechapel for the dead in Sevastopol; hundreds of men crawled, twisted,and groaned, with curses and prayers on their parched lips, some amidthe corpses in the flower-strewn vale, others on stretchers, on cots,and on the blood-stained floor of the hospital.

  And still, as on the days preceding, the dawn glowed, over SapunMountain, the twinkling stars paled, the white mist spread abroadfrom the dark sounding sea, the red glow illuminated the east, longcrimson cloudlets darted across the blue horizon; and still, as on dayspreceding, the powerful, all-beautiful sun rose up, giving promise ofjoy, love, and happiness to all who dwell in the world.

  XV.

  On the following day, the band of the chasseurs was playing again onthe boulevard, and again officers, cadets, soldiers, and young womenwere promenading in festive guise about the pavilion and through thelow-hanging alleys of fragrant white acacias in bloom.

  Kalugin, Prince Galtsin, and some colonel or other were walkingarm-in-arm near the pavilion, and discussing the engagement of the daybefore. As always happens in such cases, the chief governing threadof the conversation was not the e
ngagement itself, but the part whichthose who were narrating the story of the affair took in it.

  Their faces and the sound of their voices had a serious, almostmelancholy expression, as though the loss of the preceding day hadtouched and saddened them deeply; but, to tell the truth, as none ofthem had lost any one very near to him, this expression of sorrow wasan official expression, which they merely felt it to be their duty toexhibit.

  On the contrary, Kalugin and the colonel were ready to see anengagement of the same sort every day, provided that they might receivea gold sword or the rank of major-general--notwithstanding the fact thatthey were very fine fellows.

  I like it when any warrior who destroys millions to gratify hisambition is called a monster. Only question any Lieutenant Petrushkoff,and