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The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to

mount before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the

Enns bridge, there was nothing between the squadron and the

enemy, and again that terrible dividing line of uncertainty and

fear-resembling the line separating the living from the dead-lay

between them. All were conscious of this unseen line, and the

question whether they would cross it or not, and how they would

cross it, agitated them all.