Having advanced six paces and strayed off the track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then quickly glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been shown, fired.

Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shuddered at the sound and then, smiling at his own sensations, stood still.

The smoke, rendered denser by the mist, prevented him from seeing anything for an instant, but there was no second report as he had expected.

He only heard Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his figure came in view through the smoke.

He was pressing one hand to his left side, while the other clutched his drooping pistol.