Bilíbin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed excitement.
“There now! Confess that this is delightful,” said he. “This affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna. … They have crossed without striking a blow!”
Prince Andréy could not understand.
“But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town knows?”
“I come from the archduchess’. I heard nothing there.”
“And you didn’t see that everybody is packing up?”
“I did not … What is it all about?” inquired Prince Andréy impatiently.
“What’s it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is now rushing along the road to Brünn and will be here in a day or two.”
“What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?”
“That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why.”
Bolkónski shrugged his shoulders.
“But if the