Returning to the shelter after examining the battery, Kalúgin in the dark came upon the general, who accompanied by his staff-officers was going to the watch-tower.
‘Captain Praskúkhin,’ he heard the general say, ‘please go to the right lodgement and tell the second battalion of the M— Regiment which is at work there to cease their work, leave the place, and noiselessly rejoin their regiment which is stationed in reserve at the foot of the hill. Do you understand? Lead them yourself to the regiment.’
‘Yes, sir.’
And Praskúkhin started at full speed towards the lodgements.
The firing was now becoming less frequent.
X
‘IS this the second battalion of the M— Regiment?’ asked Praskúkhin, having run to his destination and coming across some soldiers carrying earth in sacks.
‘It is, your Honour.’
‘Where is the commander?’
Mikháylov, thinking that the commander of the company was being asked for, got out of his pit and taking Praskúkhin for a commanding officer saluted and approached him.
‘The general’s orders are … that you … should go … quickly … and above all quietly … back – no, not back, but to the reserves,’ said Praskúkhin, looking askance in the direction of the enemy’s fire.
Having recognized Praskúkhin and made out what was wanted, Mikháylov dropped his hand and passed on the order. The battalion became alert, the men took up their muskets, put on their cloaks, and set out.
No one without experiencing it can imagine the delight a man feels when, after three hours’ bombardment, he leaves so dangerous a spot as the lodgements. During those three hours Mikháylov, who more than once and not without reason had thought his end at hand, had had time to accustom himself to the conviction that he would certainly be killed and that he no longer belonged to this world. But in spite of that he had great difficulty in keeping his legs from running away with him when, leading the company with Praskúkhin at his side, he left the lodgement.
‘Au revoir!’ said a major with whom Mikháylov had eaten bread and cheese sitting in the pit under the breastwork and who was remaining at the bastion in command of another battalion. ‘I wish you a lucky journey.’
‘And I wish you a lucky defence. It seems to be getting quieter now.’
But scarcely had he uttered these words before the enemy, probably observing the movement in the lodgement, began to fire more and more frequently. Our guns replied and a heavy firing recommenced.
The stars were high in the sky but shone feebly. The night was pitch dark, only the flashes of the guns and the bursting bombs made things around suddenly visible. The soldiers walked quickly and silently, involuntarily outpacing one another; only their measured footfall on the dry road was heard besides the incessant roll of the guns, the ringing of bayonets when they touched one another, a sigh, or the prayer of some poor soldier lad: ‘Lord, O Lord! What does it mean?’ Now and again the moaning of a man who was hit could be heard, and the cry, ‘Stretchers!’ (In the company Mikháylov commanded artillery fire alone carried off twenty-six men that night.) A flash on the dark and distant horizon, the cry, ‘Can-n-on!’ from the sentinel on the bastion, and a ball flew buzzing above the company and plunged into the earth, making the stones fly.
‘What the devil are they so slow for?’ thought Praskúkhin, continually looking back as he marched beside Mikháylov. ‘I’d really better run on. I’ve delivered the order.… But no, they might afterwards say I’m a coward. What must be will be. I’ll keep beside him.’
‘Now why is he walking with me?’ thought Mikháylov on his part. ‘I have noticed over and over again that he always brings ill luck. Here it comes, I believe, straight for us.’
After they had gone a few hundred paces they met Kalúgin, who was walking briskly towards the lodgements clanking his sabre. He had been ordered by the general to find out how the works were progressing there. But when he met Mikháylov he thought that instead of going there himself under such a terrible fire – which he was not ordered to do – he might just as well find out all about it from an officer who had been there. And having heard from Mikháylov full details of the work and walked a little way with him, Kalúgin turned off into a trench leading to the bombproof shelter.
‘Well, what news?’ asked an officer who was eating his supper there all alone.
‘Nothing much. It seems that the affair is over.’
‘Over? How so? On the contrary, the general has just gone again to the watch-tower and another regiment has arrived. Yes, there it is. Listen! The muskets again! Don’t you go – why should you?’ added the officer, noticing that Kalúgin made a movement.
‘I certainly ought to be there,’ thought Kalúgin, ‘but I have already exposed myself a great deal to-day: the firing is awful!’
‘Yes, I think I’d better wait here for him,’ he said.
And really about twenty minutes later the general and the officers who were with him returned. Among them was Cadet Baron Pesth but not Praskúkhin. The lodgements had been retaken and occupied by us.
After receiving a full account of the affair Kalúgin, accompanied by Pesth, left the bomb-proof shelter.
XI
‘THERE’S blood on your coat! You don’t mean to say you were in the hand-to-hand fight?’ asked Kalúgin.
‘Oh, it was awful! Just fancy —’
And Pesth began to relate how he had led his company, how the company-commander had been killed, how he himself had stabbed a Frenchman, and how if it had not been for him we should have lost the day.
This tale was founded on fact: the company-commander had been killed and Pesth had bayoneted a Frenchman, but in recounting the details the cadet invented and bragged.
He bragged unintentionally, because during the whole of the affair he had been as it were in a fog and so bewildered that all he remembered of what had happened seemed to have happened somewhere, at some time, and to somebody. And very naturally he tried to recall the details in a light advantageous to himself. What really occurred was this:
The battalion the cadet had been ordered to join for the sortie stood under fire for two hours close to some low wall. Then the battalion-commander in front said something, the company-commanders became active, the battalion advanced from behind the breastwork, and after going about a hundred paces stopped to form into company columns. Pesth was told to take his place on the right flank of the second company.
Quite unable to realize where he was and why he was there, the cadet took his place, and involuntarily holding his breath while cold shivers ran down his back he gazed into the dark distance expecting something dreadful. He was however not so much frightened (for there was no firing) as disturbed and agitated at being in the field beyond the fortifications.
Again the battalion-commander in front said something. Again the officers spoke in whispers passing on the order, and the black wall, formed by the first company, suddenly sank out of sight. The order was to lie down. The second company also lay down and in lying down Pesth hurt his hand on a sharp prickle. Only the commander of the second company remained standing. His short figure brandishing a sword moved in front of the company and he spoke incessantly.