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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing
angrily and disrespectfully at Kozlovski.
Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and
dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From
the sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked
at him, the disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact
that the clerk and Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub
so near to the commander in chief, and from the noisy laughter of
the Cossacks holding the horses near the window, Prince Andrew
felt that something important and disastrous was about to happen.
He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions.
"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for
Bagration."
"What about capitulation?"
"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle."

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