"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov.

"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar.

" It's dark... Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse.

Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground, pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights.

The shouting grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army of several thousand men could produce.