《War And Peace》　Book14 　CHAPTER VIII
　　　　by Leo Tolstoy

DENISOV gave orders for the drummer-boy to be given some vodka and mutton,
and to be put into a Russian dress, so that he should not be sent off with the
other prisoners, but should stay with his band. Petya's attention was diverted
from the boy by the arrival of Dolohov. He had heard a great many stories told
in the army of Dolohov's extraordinary gallantry and of his cruelty to the
French. And therefore from the moment Dolohov entered the hut Petya could not
take his eyes off him, and flinging up his head, he assumed a more and more
swagging air, that he might not be unworthy of associating even with a hero like
Dolohov.

Dolohov's appearance struck Petya as strange through its simplicity.

Denisov was dressed in a Cossack coat; he had let his beard grow, and had a
holy image of Nikolay, the wonder-worker, on his breast. His whole manner of
speaking and all his gestures were suggestive of his peculiar position. Dolohov,
on the contrary, though in old days he had worn a Persian dress in Moscow,
looked now like the most correct officer of the Guards. He was clean-shaven; he
wore the wadded coat of the Guards with a St. George medal on a ribbon, and a
plain forage cap, put on straight on his head. He took his wet cloak off in the
corner and, without greeting any one, went straight up to Denisov and began at
once asking questions about the matter in hand. Denisov told him of the designs
the larger detachment had upon the French convoy, of the message Petya had
brought, and the answer he had given to both generals. Then he told him all he
knew of the position of the French.

"That's so. But we must find out what troops they are, and what are their
numbers," said Dolohov; "we must go and have a look at them. We can't rush into
the thing without knowing for certain how many there are of them. I like to do
things properly. Come, won't one of you gentlemen like to come with me to pay
them a call in their camp? I have an extra uniform with me."

"I, I ... I'll come with you!" cried Petya.

"There's not the slightest need for you to go," said Denisov, addressing
Dolohov; "and as for him I wouldn't let him go on any account."

"That's good!" cried Petya; "why shouldn't I go? ..."

"Why, because there's no reason to."

"Oh, well, excuse me ... because ... because ... I'm going, and that's all. You
will take me?" he cried, turning to Dolohov.

"Why not? ..." Dolohov answered, absently, staring into the face of the French
drummer-boy.

"Have you had that youngster long?" he asked Denisov.

"We caught him to-day, but he knows nothing; I have kept him with us."

"Oh, and what do you do with the rest?" said Dolohov.

"What do I do with them? I take a receipt for them, and send them off!" cried
Denisov, suddenly flushing. "And I make bold to say that I haven't a single
man's life on my conscience. Is there any difficulty in your sending thirty, or
three hundred men, under escort, to the town rather than stain-I say so
bluntly-one's honour as a soldier?"

"It's all very well for this little count here at sixteen to talk of such
refinements," Dolohov said, with a cold sneer; "but it's high time for you to
drop all that."

"Why, I am not saying anything, I only say that I am certainly going with
you," said Petya shyly.

"But for me and you, mate, it's high time to drop such delicacy," Dolohov
went on, apparently deriving peculiar gratification from talking on a subject
irritating to Denisov. "Why have you kept this lad," he said, "except because
you are sorry for him? Why, we all know how much your receipts are worth. You
send off a hundred men and thirty reach the town. They die of hunger or are
killed on the way. So isn't it just as well to make short work of them?"

The esaul, screwing up his light-coloured eyes, nodded his head
approvingly.

"That's not my affair, no need to discuss it. I don't care to have their
lives on my conscience. You say they die. Well, let them. Only not through my
doing."

Dolohov laughed.

"Who prevented their taking me twenty times over? But you know if they do
catch me-and you too with your chivalrous sentiments-it will just be the
same-the nearest aspen-tree." He paused. "We must be getting to work, though.
Send my Cossack here with the pack. I have two French uniforms. Well, are you
coming with me?" he asked Petya.

"I? Yes, yes, of course," cried Petya, blushing till the tears came into his
eyes, and glancing at Denisov.

While Dolohov had been arguing with Denisov what should be done with
prisoners, Petya had again had that feeling of discomfort and nervous hurry; but
again he had not time to get a clear idea of what they were talking about. "If
that's what is thought by grown-up men, famous leaders, then it must be so, it
must be all right," he thought. "And the great thing is, that Denisov shouldn't
dare to imagine that I must obey him, that he can order me about. I shall
certainly go with Dolohov into the French camp. He can go, and so can I!"

To all Denisov's efforts to dissuade him from going, Petya replied that he
too liked doing things properly and not in haphazard fashion, and that he never
thought about danger to himself.

"For, you must admit, if we don't know exactly how many men there are there,
it might cost the life of hundreds, and it is only we two, and so I very much
wish it, and I shall certainly, most certainly go, and don't try to prevent me,"
he said; "it won't be any use ..."