When the monotonous sound of Weyrother’s voice ceased, Kutúzov opened his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the mill wheel is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if remarking, “So you are still at that silly business!” quickly closed his eye again, and let his head sink still lower.
Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother’s vanity as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of this plan perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a firm and contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all objections be they what they might.
“If he could attack us, he would have done so today,” said he.
“So you think he is powerless?” said Langeron.
“He has forty thousand men at most,” replied Weyrother, with the smile of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the treatment of a case.
“In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack,” said Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round for support to Milorádovich who was near him.
But Milorádovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything rather than of what the generals were disputing about.
“ Ma foi! ” said he, “tomorrow we shall see all that on the battlefield.”