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The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed

mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow

everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no

more, none of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow

perhaps, even certainly, I have a presentiment that for the first

time I shall have to show all I can do." And his fancy pictured

the battle, its loss, the concentration of fighting at one point,

and the hesitation of all the commanders. And then that happy

moment, that Toulon for which he had so long waited, presents

itself to him at last. He firmly and clearly expresses his

opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the Emperors. All are

struck by the justness of his views, but no one undertakes to

carry them out, so he takes a regiment, a division-stipulates

that no one is to interfere with his arrangements-leads his

division to the decisive point, and gains the victory alone. "But

death and suffering?" suggested another voice.