It was an autumn, warm, rainy day. The sky and horizon were the same colour as the muddy water. It was falling as if the fog was falling, and then suddenly it was raining heavily.
Denisov was riding on a pedigree, thin, with the sides of a horse pulled up, in a burka and a hat, from which water was flowing. He, like his horse, mowing its head and squeezing its ears, was wrinkled by the rain and was anxiously looking forward. His face, which was thin and overgrown with a thick, short, black beard, seemed angry.
Next to Denisov, also in a burka and a daddy, a Cossack sesaul, an employee of Denisov, was riding on a well-fed, large bottom.
Esaul Lovaisky, the third, also wearing a burka and a pope, was a long, flat as a board, white-faced, blond man, with narrow light eyes and quietly self-satisfied expression both in his face and in his planting. Although it was impossible to say what was the peculiarity of horse and sedentary, but at the first glance at Esaul and Denisov it was obvious that Denisova and Denisova were both wet and awkward - that Denisov was a man who sat on a horse; Whereas, looking at the esaul, it was clear that he was as comfortable and quiet as ever, and that he was not a man who sat on a horse, but a man with a horse, one double-powerful creature.
A little ahead of them was a wet male guide, wearing a grey caftan and a white hood.
A little bit behind, on a thin, thin Kyrgyz horse with a huge tail and mane and blood-stitched lips, a young officer in a blue French overcoat was riding.
Next to him was a hussar, carrying a boy's horse in a tattered French uniform and a blue cap. The boy held his hands red from the cold, moved his bare feet, trying to warm them, and, raising his eyebrows, looked around him with surprise. He was a French drummer taken in the morning.
At the back, three, four by three, along a narrow, sprawling, and driven around forest road, stretched hussars, then Cossacks, who was in a burqa, who was in a French overcoat, who was in a blanket, thrown over his head. Horses, redheaded and nesting, all seemed to be ravenous from the rain. The necks of the horses seemed strangely thin from the moistened maneuvers. Horses made steam rise from the horses. The clothes, saddle, and reins were all wet, slimy, and dissipated, as well as the earth and fallen leaves that had paved the road. They were sitting choking, trying not to move to warm the water that had spilled to the body, and not to let the new cold water flow under the seats, knees, and neck. In the middle of the stretched Cossacks two lorries on the French and harnessed in the saddles of Cossack horses crashed on stumps and limbs and muttered along the water-filled tracks of the road.
Denisov's horse, bypassing the puddle that was on the road, stretched aside and pushed his knee against a tree.
- Hey, Cheg't! - Denisov cried out maliciously and, shattering his teeth, whipped a horse three times, splashing dirt on himself and his comrades. Denisov was in a bad mood: neither from the rain nor from hunger (nobody ate anything in the morning), nor from the fact that Dolokhov hadn't heard from him until now, and the sent one didn't return to take his tongue.
"It is unlikely that another case like this one will come out and attack the transport. It is too risky for one to attack, and to postpone until another day - from under the nose one of the big guerrillas will seize the prey", - thought Denisov, constantly looking ahead, thinking to see the expected sent from Dolokhov.
Having left on a clearing, on which it was visible far to the right, Denisov has stopped.
- Someone is coming," he said.
Esaul looked in the direction indicated by Denisov.
- Two are coming - an officer and a Cossack. Just not presumably a Lieutenant Colonel himself," said Esaul, who liked to use words unknown to the Cossacks.
Those who drove down the mountain fled the scene and a few minutes later showed up again. Ahead of him a tired gallop, chasing with a naked nut, the officer was riding - shredded, soaked through and with pantaloons whipped above his knees. Behind him, standing on his stirrups, a Cossack was rooting. The officer, a very young boy, with a wide, blushing face and fast, cheerful eyes, jumped up to Denisov and gave him a wet envelope.
- From the general," said the officer, "I'm sorry it's not quite dry...
Denisov, frowning, took an envelope and started printing.
- That's what they said that was dangerous," said the officer to Esaul as Denisov read the envelope he was given. - However, Komarov and I," he pointed to the Cossack, "are ready. We have two pistoes each... And what is this?" he asked, when he saw the French drummer, "is he a prisoner? Were you already in battle? Can I talk to him?
- G'ostov! Petya!" Denisov shouted at the same time, running through the envelope he had received. - Why didn't you say who you were? And Denisov turned around and extended his hand to the officer with a smile.
This officer was Petya Rostov.
All the way Petya was preparing for how he would keep himself with Denisov properly, without hinting at his previous acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him, Petya immediately shone, blushed with joy and, forgetting the officiality prepared, began to talk about how he had passed by the French, and how happy he was that he had been given such an assignment, and that he was already in the battle at Vyazma, and that there distinguished himself by one hussar.
- Well, I'm hell-bent on seeing you," Denisov interrupted him, and his face took on another worrying expression.
- Mikhail Feoklitych," he said to Esaul, "because it was from the German again. He is a pg'and he is a member. - And Denisov told Esaul that the contents of the paper he had brought now were to repeat a request from a German general to join in an attack on the transport. - If we don't take him in, they're out from under our noses," he concluded.
While Denisov was talking to Esaul, Petya, who was confused by Denisov's cold tone, assumed that the reason for this tone was the position of his pantaloon, so that no one noticed it, corrected the whipped pantaloons under his overcoat, trying to look as belligerent as possible.
Will there be any order from your nobility? - Did he say to Denisov, holding his hand to the visor and returning to the game of Adjutant and General for which he had prepared himself?
- Pg'ikazaniya?... - Denisov thoughtfully said. - Can you stay until tomorrow's day?
- Ah, please... Can I stay with you? - Petya yelled out.
- How exactly do you feel about Genegha's veganing now? - Denisov asked. Petya blushed.
- He didn't say anything. I think we can? - he said questioningly.
- Well, okay," Denisov said. And, having addressed his subordinates, he made orders that the party should go to the place of rest appointed at the guardhouse in the forest, and that the officer on the Kyrgyz horse (this officer was an adjutant) should go to find Dolokhov, to find out where he is and whether he will come in the evening. Denisov himself and Petey intended to approach the edge of the forest, which was coming to Shamshev, in order to look at the location of the French, which was to be the focus of tomorrow's attack.
- Well, god'oda," he said to the man guide, "take him to Shamshev.
Denisov, Petya and Esaul, accompanied by several Cossacks and a hussar who was carrying a prisoner, drove left through the ravine to the edge of the forest.