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Rostov had not yet had time to get his uniform. He had on a

shabby cadet jacket, decorated with a soldier's cross, equally

shabby cadet's riding breeches lined with worn leather, and an

officer's saber with a sword knot. The Don horse he was riding

was one he had bought from a Cossack during the campaign, and he

wore a crumpled hussar cap stuck jauntily back on one side of his

head. As he rode up to the camp he thought how he would impress

Boris and all his comrades of the Guards by his appearance-that

of a fighting hussar who had been under fire.