ench where Pierre had seen him in the morning sat
Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no
orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested.

"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go,
dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those
about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the reports
that were brought him and gave directions when his subordinates demanded
that of him; but when listening to the reports it seemed as if he
were not interested in the import of the words spoken, but rather in
something else--in the expression of face and tone of voice of those who
were reporting. By long years of military experience he knew, and with
the wisdom of age understood, that it is impossible for one man to
direct hundreds of thousands of others struggling with death, and he
knew that the result of a battle is decided not by the orders of a
commander in chief, nor the place where the troops are stationed, nor by
the number of cannon or of slaughtered men, but by that intangible force
called the spirit of the army, and he watched this force and guided it
in as far as that was in his power.

Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet attention,
and his face wore a strained look as if he found it difficult to master
the fatigue of his old and feeble body.

At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by the
French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. Kutuzov
groaned and swayed his head.

"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," he
said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of Wurttemberg
who was standing behind him.

"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?"

Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have reached
Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov that the
duke asked for more troops.

Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over the
command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said he
could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When
they brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the staff
officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled.

"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there is
nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is better to
wait before we rej