Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov rode to the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French camp, and emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended into the hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks accompanying him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot along the road to the bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with excitement, rode by his side.

"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," whispered he.

"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at that very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge:

"Qui vive?"[115] and the click of a musket. The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol. "Lanciers du 6-me,"[116] replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor slackening his horse's pace. The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge. "Mot d'ordre."[117] Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk. "Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?"[118] he asked. "Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not replying. "Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas le mot d'ordre… " cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding straight at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici."[119] And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk. Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov stopped him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The man, a soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up to Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply and in a friendly way that the commander and the officers were higher up the hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the landowner's house. Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk could be heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the courtyard of the landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted and approached a big blazing campfire, around which sat several men talking noisily. Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge of the fire and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by the fire, was kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod. "Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was sitting in the shadow at the other side of the fire. "He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, laughing. Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading their horses. "Bonjour, messieurs!"[120] said Dolokhov loudly and clearly. There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, and one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up to Dolokhov. "Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the