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But that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the

important thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh,

yes, yes! That's right!" And his head once more sank to his

horse's neck. All at once it seemed to him that he was being

fired at. "What? What? What?... Cut them down! What?..." said

Rostov, waking up. At the moment he opened his eyes he heard in

front of him, where the enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of

thousands of voices. His horse and the horse of the hussar near

him pricked their ears at these shouts. Over there, where the

shouting came from, a fire flared up and went out again, then

another, and all along the French line on the hill fires flared

up and the shouting grew louder and louder. Rostov could hear the

sound of French words but could not distinguish them. The din of

many voices was too great; all he could hear was: "ahahah!" and

"rrrr!"

"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar

beside him. "That must be the enemy's camp!"