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I. 1812

sides of it and in the meadow, among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken no notice of amid the smoke of the campfires the day before; but despite the incessant firing going on there he had no idea that this was the field of battle. He did not notice the sound of the bullets whistling from every side, or the projectiles that flew over him, did not see the enemy on the other side of the river, and for a long time did not notice the killed and wounded, though many fell near him. He looked about him with a smile which did not leave his face.

“Why’s that fellow in front of the line?” shouted somebody at him again.

“To the left!⁠ ⁠… Keep to the right!” the men shouted to him.

Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly

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