er
generals, however, understood it and, leaving aside the question of
Moscow, spoke of the direction the army should take in its retreat.
Malasha, who kept her eyes fixed on what was going on before her,
understood the meaning of the council differently. It seemed to her that
it was only a personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as
she termed Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to
one another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of
the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle
glance, and then to her joys he saw that "Granddad" said something to
"Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and paced
angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's calm
and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's
proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to
attack the French right wing.

"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. Moving
troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, and military
history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov seemed to reflect,
searching for an example, then with a clear, naive look at Bennigsen he
added: "Oh yes; take the battle of Friedland, which I think the count
well remembers, and which was... not fully successful, only because our
troops were rearranged too near the enemy..."

There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them all.

The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and they all
felt that there was no more to be said.

During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if preparing to
speak. They all looked at him.

"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the broken
crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. "Gentlemen,
I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with me. But I," he
paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my Sovereign and country,
order a retreat."

After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and
circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral.

Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different from
the way they had spoken during the council, communicated something to
their commander in chief.

Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully
backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its
project