er generals followed his example,
then the officers, and after them with excited faces, pressing on one
another, crowding, panting, and pushing, scrambled the soldiers and
militiamen.

CHAPTER XXII

Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him.

"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice.

Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his hand
(he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the icon),
came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a slightly
martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long coat and like
Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder.

Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in the
shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run
to fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and
brilliant suite surrounded him.

The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre stopped
some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris.

He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the
position.

"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the
camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen
will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to him.
But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. We are
just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend the night
with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you know Dmitri
Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the third house
in the village of Gorki.

"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very strong,"
said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River and ride
round the whole position."

"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left flank."

"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point it
out to me?"

"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him."

"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre

"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state our
left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. "It is
not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify that knoll
quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, "his Serene
Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. You see..." but
Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, Kutuzo