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The hussar did not reply.

"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a

reply.

"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly.

"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov.

"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's

dark... Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse.

Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen

ground, pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights.

The shouting grew still louder and merged into a general roar

that only an army of several thousand men could produce. The

lights spread farther and farther, probably along the line of the

French camp. Rostov no longer wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant

shouting of the enemy army had a stimulating effect on him. "Vive

l'Empereur! l'Empereur!" he now heard distinctly.

"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said

to the hussar beside him.