llant deed to the Emperor
and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When sent for by Count
Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged without orders,
felt sure his commander was sending for him to punish him for breach of
discipline. Ostermann's flattering words and promise of a reward should
therefore have struck him all the more pleasantly, but he still felt
that same vaguely disagreeable feeling of moral nausea. "But what
on earth is worrying me?" he asked himself as he rode back from the
general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. Have I disgraced myself in any way? No,
that's not it." Something else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes,
oh yes, that French officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm
paused when I raised it."

Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to have
a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was sitting in
his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked anxiously about
him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called a wound. He
glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his hand in greeting.
Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as of shame.

All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that Rostov,
without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and preoccupied.
He drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept turning something
over in his mind.

Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, which to
his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given him
a reputation for bravery, and there was something he could not at all
understand. "So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So
that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I do it for my
country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes?
And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should
I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's
Cross.... I can't make it out at all."

But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could reach
no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune in the
service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the affair at
Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of an hussar
battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was chosen.

CHAPTER XVI

On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not quite
well yet and