MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS: greatcoat of bluish cloth, martial arts weapons contrasted with the others. "What have you been after? The commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? Eh? I'll teach you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... Eh...?" The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior, pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this pressure lay his only hope of salvation. "Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as a Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe. "Your excellency..." "Well, your excellency,MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS: what? Your excellency! But what about your excellency?... nobody knows." "Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to the ranks," said the captain softly. "Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? If a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the others." "Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march." "Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says a word to you martial arts weapons you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I beg you
MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS: to dress your men decently." And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further excuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached the third company. "H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted the commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there were martial arts weapons five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray
MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS: uniform. Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his clear, insolent eyes in the general's face. "Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his coat... the ras..." he did not finish. "General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." Dolokhov hurriedly interrupted. "No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!" "Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, martial arts weapons tones. The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf. "I request you to have the goodness to change your
MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS: coat," he said as he turned away. CHAPTER II "He's coming!" shouted the martial arts weapons at that moment. The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself, drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute countenance, opening his mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless. "Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome for the approaching chief. Along the broad country road, edged on both
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