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"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said

Weyrother, hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the

table on which an enormous map of the environs of Brunn was

spread out.

Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged

over his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a

low chair, with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its

arms. At the sound of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye

with an effort.

"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and

nodding his head he let it droop and again closed his eye.