Leo Tolstoy Archive
Written: 1855
Source: Text from WikiSource.org
Transcription/Markup: Andy Carloff
Online Source: RevoltLib.com; 2021
Leaving the soldiers to discuss the flight of the Tar- tars when they saw the shell, and why they were riding there, and how many of them still might be in the woods, I walked away with the commander of the company a few steps to one side, and seated myself under a tree, waiting for the warmed forcemeat cutlets which he had offered me. The commander of the company, Bolkhdv, was one of those officers who, in the regiment, are called " bonjours." He had means, had served in the guards, and spoke French. Yet, notwithstanding this, his com- rades liked him. He was quite clever, and had enough tact to wear a St. Petersburg coat, to eat a good dinner, and to speak French, without unduly offending the society of his fellow officers. After speaking of the weather, of military engagements, of our common acquaintances among the officers, and convincing ourselves, by our questions and answers, and by our view of things, that there was a satisfactory understanding between us, we involuntarily passed to a more intimate conversation. Besides, in the Caucasus, among people of the same circle naturally arises the question, though not always expressed, " Why are you here ? " To this silent question my companion, so it seemed to me, was trying to give a reply.
" When will this frontier work end ? " he said, lazily. « It is dull ! "
" Not to me," said I. " It is more tiresome on the staff."
" Oh, on the staff it is ten thousand times worse," he said, angrily. " No, when will all this end ? "
" What is it you want to end ? "
" Everything, altogether ! — Are the cutlets ready, Nikolaev ? " he asked.
" Why did you go to the Caucasus to serve, if the Cau- casus is so displeasing to you ? "
" Do you know why ? " he replied, with absolute frank- ness. " By tradition. In Eussia, you know, there exists an exceedingly strange tradition about the Caucasus, аз though it were a promised land for all kinds of unhappy people."
" Yes, that is almost true," I said, " the greater part of us — "
" But what is best of all," he interrupted me, " is, that all of us who come to the Caucasus make dreadful mistakes in our calculations. Really, I can't see why, on account of an unfortunate love-afifair or disorder in money matters, one should hasten to serve in the Caucasus rather than in Kazan or Kaluga. In Russia they im- agine the Caucasus as something majestic, with eternal virgin snows, torrents, daggers, cloaks, Circassian maidens, — all this is terrifying, but, really, there is nothing jolly in it. If they only knew that you never are in the vir- gin snows, and that there is no special pleasure in being there, and that the Caucasus is divided into Governments, Stavropol, Tiflis, and so forth — "
" Yes," I said, laughing, " in Russia we take an entirely different view of the Caucasus from what we do here. Have you not experienced this ? when you read poetry in a language that you do not know very well, you imagine it to be much better than it really is — "
" I don't know, only I have no use for the Caucasus," he interrupted me.
" No, not so with me. I like the Caucasus even now, but differently — "
" Maybe the Caucasus is all right," he continued, as though provoked a little, " but I know this much : I am not good for the Caucasus."
" Why not ? " I asked, in order to say something.
" Because, in the first place, it has deceived me. All that from which I had come away to be cured in the Caucasus, as the tradition has it, has followed me up here, — but with this difference. Formerly I was led to it on a large staircase, and now it is a small, dirty staircase, at each step of which I find millions of petty annoyances, meanness, insults ; in the second place, because I feel that I am every day falling morally lower and lower, and, what is most important, because I feel unfit for this kind of service ; I am unable to bear danger — I am simply not a brave man — "
He stopped and looked earnestly at me.
Although this unasked-for confession surprised me very much, I did not contradict him, as my interlocutor had evidently expected me to do, but awaited from him the refutation of his own words, which is always forth- coming under such circumstances.
"Do you know, I am to-day taking part in an action for the first time since I have been in the frontier guard," he continued, "and you will hardly believe what hap- pened to me yesterday. When the sergeant brought the order that my company was to be in the column, I grew as pale as a sheet, and was unable to speak from trepida- tion. And if you only knew what a night I have passed ! If it is true that people grow gray from fright, I ought to be entirely white to-day, for not one man condemned to death has suffered so much in one night as I have ; though I am feeling a little more at ease now than I did in the night, it still goes around here," he added, moving his clinched hand in front of his breast. " Now this is certainly ridiculous," he continued, " a most terrible drama is being played here, and I myself am eating cutlets with onions, and persuading myself that all this is very gay. Have you any wine, Nikolaev ? " he added, with a yawn.
" There he is, brothers ! " was heard at that moment the alarmed voice of one of the soldiers, and all eyes were directed to the edge of the far-off forest.
In the distance rose a bluish cloud of smoke, borne upwards by the wind, and constantly growing larger. When I understood that this was a shot which the enemy had aimed at us, everything that was before my eyes, everything suddenly assumed a new and majestic charac- ter. The stacked guns, and the smoke of the camp-fires, and the blue sky, and the green gun-carriages, and the sunburnt, whiskered face of Nikolaev, — everything seemed to tell me that the cannon-ball which had emerged from the smoke and which at that moment was flying through space might be directed straight at my breast,
" Where did you get your wine ? " I asked Bolkhov, lazily, while in the depth of my soul two voices were speaking with equal distinctness ; one said, " Lord, receive my soul in peace," and the other, " I hope I shall not cower, but smile as the ball flies past me," and at the same instant something dreadfully disagreeable whistled over our heads, and struck the ground within two steps of us.
" Now, if I were a Napoleon or a Frederick," Bolkhov remarked at that time, turning toward me with extraordi- nary composure, " I should utter some witticism."
" But you have told one just now," I replied, with diffi- culty concealing the alarm caused within me by the danger just past,
" Even if I have, nobody will make a note of it,"
" I will."
" Yes, if you make a note of it, it will be to put in a critical paper, as Mishchenkov says," he added, smiling.
" Pshaw, you accursed one ! " said Antonov, who was sitting behind us, angrily spitting to one side, " just missed my legs,"
All my endeavors to appear cool and all our cunning phrases suddenly seemed intolerably stupid after this simple-hearted exclamation.