" It is such a lofty, beautiful feeling, such a..." "I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..." "No, you don't understand!" And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming of what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life (he did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before his eyes.

He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms and the hope of future triumph.

And he was not the only man to experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding the battle of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms.

The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his physician, was repeatedly summoned to see him.

At headquarters and among the troops near by the news spread that the Emperor was unwell.