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With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly

with his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to

his full height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting

with the heavy tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with

him. He carried close to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword

(small, curved, and not like a real weapon) and looked now at the

superior officers and now back at the men without losing step,

his whole powerful body turning flexibly. It was as if all the

powers of his soul were concentrated on passing the commander in

the best possible manner, and feeling that he was doing it well

he was happy. "Left... left... left..." he seemed to repeat to

himself at each alternate step; and in time to this, with stern

but varied faces, the wall of soldiers burdened with knapsacks

and muskets marched in step, and each one of these hundreds of

soldiers seemed to be repeating to himself at each alternate

step, "Left... left...