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Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was

now the line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he

asked himself and could not answer. "Can something bad have

happened to me?" he wondered as he got up: and at that moment he

felt that something superfluous was hanging on his benumbed left

arm. The wrist felt as if it were not his. He examined his hand

carefully, vainly trying to find blood on it. "Ah, here are

people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing some men running

toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a man wearing a

strange shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, and with a

hooked nose. Then came two more, and many more running behind.

One of them said something strange, not in Russian. In among the

hindmost of these men wearing similar shakos was a Russian

hussar. He was being held by the arms and his horse was being led

behind him.