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The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the

hussars got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the

shot went too high, but the last round fell in the midst of a

group of hussars and knocked three of them over.

Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on

the bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down

(as he had always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help

to fire the bridge because he had not brought any burning straw

with him like the other soldiers. He stood looking about him,

when suddenly he heard a rattle on the bridge as if nuts were

being spilt, and the hussar nearest to him fell against the rails

with a groan. Rostov ran up to him with the others. Again someone

shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men seized the hussar and began

lifting him.

"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man,

but still he was lifted and laid on the stretcher.