which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome for the approaching chief.
Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high, light blue Viennese calèche, slightly creaking on its springs and drawn by six horses at a smart trot.
Behind the calèche galloped the suite and a convoy of Croats.
Beside Kutúzov sat an Austrian general, in a white uniform that looked strange among the Russian black ones.
The calèche stopped in front of the regiment.
Kutúzov and the Austrian general were talking in low voices and Kutúzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he stepped down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not exist.
The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered,