And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further excuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached the third company.
“H-o-o-w are you standing? Where’s your leg? Your leg?” shouted the commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there were still five men between him and Dólokhov with his bluish-gray uniform.
Dólokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his clear, insolent eyes in the general’s face.
“Why a blue coat? Off with it … Sergeant major! Change his coat … the ras …” he did not finish.
“General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure …” Dólokhov hurriedly interrupted.
“No talking in the ranks! … No talking, no talking!”
“Not bound to endure insults,” Dólokhov concluded in loud, ringing tones.
The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf.
“I request you to have the goodness to change your coat,” he said as he turned away.
II
“He’s coming!” shouted the signaler at that moment.
The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself,