Leo Tolstoy Archive


The Cutting of the Forest
Chapter 12


Written: 1855
Source: Text from WikiSource.org
Transcription/Markup: Andy Carloff
Online Source: RevoltLib.com; 2021


Leo Tolstoy

My supposition was soon confirmed. Captain Kraft asked for some brandy, calling it by its popular name, and clearing his throat terribly, and throwing back his head, drained the wine-glass.

"Well, gentlemen, we have crisscrossed to-day over the plains of the Chechnya," he began, but, upon noticing the officer of the day, he grew silent, so as to give the major a chance to give his orders.

" Well, have you inspected the cordon ? "

" I have, sir."

" Have the ambushes been sent out ? "

" They have been, sir."

" Then communicate the order to the commanders of the companies to be as cautious as possible ! "

" Yes, sir."

The major closed his eyes and became thoughtful.

" Tell the people that they may now cook their grits."

" They are cooking them now."

" Very well. You may go."

" Well, we were figuring out what an officer needed," continued the major, with a condescending smile, address- ing us. " Let us figure out ! "

" You need one uniform and a pair of trousers. Is it not so ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Let us call it fifty rubles for two years ; consequently, this makes twenty-five rubles a year for clothes ; then for board forty kopecks a day. Is that right ? "

" Yes ; it is even too much."

" Well, let us suppose it. Then, for the horse with the saddle for the remount, thirty rubles, — that is all. That makes in all twenty-five, and one hundred and twenty, and thirty, equal to one hundred and seventy-five rubles. There is still left enough for luxuries, for tea and sugar, and for tobacco, — say twenty rubles. Don't you see ? Am I right, Nikolay Fedorovich ? "

" No, excuse me, Abram Ilich ! " timidly remarked the adjutant. " Nothing will be left for tea and sugar. You figure one pair for two years, whereas in these expeditions you can't get enough pantaloons. And the boots ? I wear out a pair almost every month. Then the underwear, the shirts, the towels, the sock-rags, all these have to be bought. Count it up and nothing will be left. Upon my word, it is so, Abram Ilich."

" Yes, it is fine to wear sock-rags," Kraft suddenly remarked after a moment's silence, vdth special dehght pronouncing the word " sock-rags." " You know it is so simple, so Russian ! "

" I will tell you something," said Trosenko, " Count as you may, it will turn out that we fellows ought to be shelved, whereas in reality we manage to live, and to drink tea, and to smoke tobacco, and to drink brandy. After you have served as long as I have," he continued, addressing the ensign, " you wHl learn how to get along. Do you know, gentlemen, how he treats his orderly ? "

And Trosenko, almost dying with laughter, told us the whole story of the ensign with his orderly, although we had heard it a thousand times before.

" My friend, what makes you look Uke a rose ? " he continued, addressing the ensign, who was blushing, per- spiring, and smiling so that it was a pity to look at him.

" Never mind, I was just like you, and yet I have turned out to be a fine fellow. You let a young fellow from Russia get down here, — we have seen some of them.

— and he will get spasms and rheumatism, and all such things ! But I am settled here, — here is my house, my bed, and everything. You see — "

Saying which, he drained another wine-glass of brandy.

" Ah ! " he added, looking fixedly into Kraft's eyes.

" This is what I respect ! This is a genuine old Cau- casus officer ! Let me have your hand ! "

Kraft pushed us all aside, made his way toward Tro- senko, and, grasping his hand, shook it with much feeling.

" Yes, we may say that we have experienced everything here," he continued. " In the year '45 — you were there, captain ? — do you remember the night of the 12th which we passed knee-deep in the mud and how the next day we went into the abatis ? I was then attached to the commander-in-chief, and we took fifteen abatises in one day. Do you remember it, captain ? "

Trosenko made a sign of confirmation with his head, and closed his eyes, and protruded his lower lip.

" So you see — " began Kraft, with much animation, and making inappropriate gestures while addressing the major.

But the major, who no doubt had heard the story more than once, suddenly looked vnth such dim, dull eyes at his interlocutor that Kraft turned away from him and addressed Bolkh6v and me, glancing now at one, now at the other. At Trosenko he did not once look during his recital.

" So you see, when we went out in the morning, the commander-in-chief said to me, * Kraft, take the abatises ! ' You know, our military service demands obedience with- out reflection, — so, hand to the visor, * Yes, your Excel- lency ! ' and off I went. When we reached the first abatis I turned around and said to the soldiers, * Boys, courage ! Look sharp ! He who lags behind will be cut down by my own hand.' With a Eussian soldier, you know, you must speak plainly. Suddenly — a shell. I looked, one soldier, another soldier, a third, then bullets — whiz ! whiz ! whiz ! Says I, * Forward, boys, after me ! ' No sooner had we reached it, you know, we looked, and there I saw that — you know — what do you call it ? " and the narrator waved his arms in his attempt to find the proper word.

" A ditch," Bolkhov helped him out.

" No — ah, what is it called ? My God ! Well, what is it ? — a ditch," he said, hurriedly. " "We, ' Charge bayonets ! ' — Hurrah ! Ta-ra-ta-ta-ta ! Not a soul of the enemy. You know we were all surprised. Very well. We marched ahead, — the second abatis. That was an- other matter. We were now on our mettle. No sooner did we walk up than we saw, I observed, the second abatis, — impossible to advance. Here — what do you call it, well, what is that name ? — ah, what is it ? — "

" Again a ditch," I helped him out.

" Not at all," he continued, excitedly, " No, not a ditch, but — well, what do you call it ? " and he made an insipid gesture with his hand. " Ah, my God ! What do you call it ? "

He was apparently suffering so much that we wanted to help him out.

" Maybe a river," said Bolkhov.

" No, simply a ditch. But the moment we went up there was such a fire, a hell — "

Just then somebody asked for me outside the tent. It was Maksimov. Since there were thirteen other abatises left after having listened to the varied story of the first two, I was glad to use this as an excuse for leaving for my platoon. Trosenko went out with me. " He is lying," he said -to me after we had walked several steps away from the booth, " he never was in the abatises," and Tro- senko laughed so heartily that I, too, felt amused.