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Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came

a high, light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its

springs and drawn by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the

caleche galloped the suite and a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov

sat an Austrian general, in a white uniform that looked strange

among the Russian black ones. The caleche stopped in front of the

regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking in low

voices and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he stepped

down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men

breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not

exist.