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Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two

other hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in

the direction from which the shouting came. He felt both

frightened and pleased to be riding alone with three hussars into

that mysterious and dangerous misty distance where no one had

been before him. Bagration called to him from the hill not to go

beyond the stream, but Rostov pretended not to hear him and did

not stop but rode on and on, continually mistaking bushes for

trees and gullies for men and continually discovering his

mistakes. Having descended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw

either our own or the enemy's fires, but heard the shouting of

the French more loudly and distinctly. In the valley he saw

before him something like a river, but when he reached it he

found it was a road. Having come out onto the road he reined in

his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it and

ride over the black field up the hillside.