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When he had ridden about two miles and had passed the last of the

Russian troops, he saw, near a kitchen garden with a ditch round

it, two men on horseback facing the ditch. One with a white plume

in his hat seemed familiar to Rostov; the other on a beautiful

chestnut horse (which Rostov fancied he had seen before) rode up

to the ditch, struck his horse with his spurs, and giving it the

rein leaped lightly over. Only a little earth crumbled from the

bank under the horse's hind hoofs. Turning the horse sharply, he

again jumped the ditch, and deferentially addressed the horseman

with the white plumes, evidently suggesting that he should do the

same. The rider, whose figure seemed familiar to Rostov and

involuntarily riveted his attention, made a gesture of refusal

with his head and hand and by that gesture Rostov instantly

recognized his lamented and adored monarch.