Nikolaeff, who had fortified himself at Duvanka, with two jugs of
vodka, purchased from a soldier who was peddling it on the bridge, gave
the reins a jerk, and the team jolted away over the stony road, shaded
here and there, which led along the Belbek to Sevastopol; but the
brothers, whose legs jostled each other, maintained a stubborn silence,
although they were thinking of each other every instant.
“Why did he insult me?” thought the younger. “Could he not have held
his tongue about that? It is exactly as though he thought that I was a
thief; yes, and now he is angry, apparently, so that we have quarrelled
for good. And how splendid it would have been for us to be together in
Sevastopol. Two brothers, on friendly terms, both fighting the foe!
one of them, the elder, though not very cultivated, yet a valiant
warrior, and the other younger, but a brave fellow too. In a week's
time I would have showed them that I am not such a youngster after all!
I shall cease to blush, there will be manliness in my countenance,
and, though my moustache is not very large now, it would grow to a
good size by that time;” and he felt of the down which was making its
appearance round the edges of his mouth. “Perhaps we shall arrive
to-day, and get directly into the conflict, my brother and I. He must
be obstinate and very brave, one of those who do not say much, but act
better than others. I should like to know,” he continued, “whether he
is squeezing me against the side of the wagon on purpose or not. He
probably is conscious that I feel awkward, and he is pretending not
to notice me. We shall arrive to-day,” he went on with his argument,
pressing close to the side of the wagon, and fearing to move lest his
brother should observe that he was uncomfortable, “and, all at once,
we shall go straight to the bastion. We shall both go together, I with
my equipments, and my brother with his company. All of a sudden, the
French throw themselves on us. I begin to fire, and fire on them. I
kill a terrible number; but they still continue to run straight at me.
Now, it is impossible to fire any longer, and there is no hope for me;
all at once my brother rushes out in front with his sword, and I grasp
my gun, and we rush on with the soldiers. The French throw themselves
on my brother. I hasten up; I kill one Frenchman, then another, and
I save my brother. I am wounded in one arm; I seize my gun with the
other, and continue my flight; but my brother is slain by my side by
the bullets. I halt for a moment, and gaze at him so sorrowfully; then
I straighten myself up and shout: ‘Follow me! We will avenge him! I
loved my brother more than any one in the world,’ I shall say, ‘and I
have lost him. Let us avenge him! Let us annihilate the foe, or let us
all die together there!’ All shout, and fling themselves after me. Then
the whole French army makes a sortie, including even Pelissier himself.
We all fight; but, at last, I am wounded a second, a third time, and I
fall, nearly dead. Then, all rush up to me. Gortchakoff comes up and
asks what I would like. I say that I want nothing—except that I may
be laid beside my brother; that I wish to die with him. They carry
me, and lay me down by the side of my brother's bloody corpse. Then I
shall raise myself, and merely say: ‘Yes, you did not understand how
to value two men who really loved their father-land; now they have both
fallen,—and may God forgive you!’ and I shall die.
Who knows in what measure these dreams will be realized?
“Have you ever been in a hand to hand fight?” he suddenly inquired of
his brother, quite forgetting that he had not meant to speak to him.
“No, not once,” answered the elder. “Our regiment has lost two thousand
men, all on the works; and I, also, was wounded there. War is not
carried on in the least as you fancy, Volodya.”
The word “Volodya” touched the younger brother. He wanted to come to an
explanation with his brother, who had not the least idea that he had
offended Volodya.
“You are not angry with me, Misha?” he said, after a momentary silence.
“What about?”
“No, because—because we had such a—nothing.”
“Not in the least,” replied the elder, turning to him, and slapping him
on the leg.
“Then forgive me, Misha, if I have wounded you.”
And the younger brother turned aside, in order to hide the tears that
suddenly started to his eyes.