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Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge.

Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing

the ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron

draw nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses

galloping, resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the

squadron, officers in front and men four abreast, spread across

the bridge and began to emerge on his side of it.

The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the

trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will,

estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms

usually encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who

moved past them in regular order.

"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one.

"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked

another.

"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose

prancing horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers.