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them for the wounded men!
Give all the carts to the wounded.
Take all our trunks and store them.
Should I dismiss the cabman?
Yes, Guerasim. Could you do
exactly as I tell you?
- You wish something to eat?
- No. Now I need other things.
Could you get some peasant's
clothes and a pistol for me?
- Whose carriage is that?
- The wounded Prince is in it.
Who is he?
Our betrothed that was, Prince
Bolkonsky. They say he's dying.
Well, God be with us.
Look, it's him!
I swear it's Bezukhov!
Pyotr Kirillovich, come here!
We recognized you!
What are you doing?
Why are you dressed like that?
- What's wrong, Count?
- What?
Don't ask me.
- Are you staying in Moscow?
- Yes, I'm staying.
If I were a man,
I'd stay here with you.
Mama, let me stay in the city,
- We heard you were at the battle?
- Yes.
There'll be another battle tomorrow.
- But what is the matter, Count?
- Don't ask me...
I don't know myself.
These are frightful times.
Goodbye and good luck.
He suddenly felt that everything
was at an end, in a state of chaos,
and crumbling to pieces,
that there would be no future,
and that the present situation
offered no escape.
There she is, that holy capital!
There she is, lying at my feet,
awaiting her fate.
A strange, beautiful,
majestic city.
But why is the deputation from
the city so long in coming?
To arms! Board them!
Do you see it? Run them down!
My goodness, here they are!
Four of them, horsemen!
Master not here.
No understand... me you.
No understand...
Run them down!
- You are not wounded?
- I think not.
you shall pay for it!
Please, forgive this drunken
You have saved my life.
You are French?
I'm Captain Ramball.
- I'm Russian.
- Tell that to others.
What are we to do with this man?
All right, I grant you his pardon.
What is your name?
M. Pierre, you say?
That's all I want to know.
I owe you
a fine votive candle.
I have bullets enough
in my body.
Here is one from Wagram,
and two from Smolensk.
And the leg -
at the great battle of Moscow.
It was fine!
You cut us out a tough job.
I was there.
Really? So much the better.
You are courageous enemies.
Fine fellows!
So you're a soldier, like ourselves!
So much the better, M. Pierre.
Is it true that all the women
have left Moscow?
What had they to fear?
Wouldn't French ladies quit Paris
if the Russians came?
- That's a good one. But Paris...
- Paris is the capital of the world.
Paris - it is Talma, la Duschenois,
Potier, the Sorbonne,
the boulevards.
To return to your ladies,
what a chance they have lost.
We have taken Vienna, Berlin,
Naples, Madrid, Warsaw.
We are feared, but we are loved.
And then the Emperor...
What of the Emperor?
He's the greatest man of
the centuries, past and to come.
Is he in Moscow?
No, he will make
his entry tomorrow.
We are sad, aren't we?
Warm us another bottle!
- It's not in Mytischi, but further.
- Right, it looks like Moscow.
Mytischi's over there,
and this is on the other side.
I say it is flaring.
That is Moscow burning, either
in Suschevsky or in Dubrovsky.
It's awful!
I think all Moscow's burning.
What a dreadful glow!
Natasha, look!
You can see it from the window.
Look how it's burning.
What's burning? Ah, yes, Moscow...
- You didn't even look.
- Yes, I did. I saw.
Ever since Natasha had been told
that Prince Andrei had journeyed
with them, that she couldn't see him
because he had a serious wound,
though his life was not in danger,
she had disbelieved everything
she'd been told,
but being convinced that she would
always be told the same thing,
she no longer asked questions.
You're trembling!
You had better lie down.
Yes, I will lie down.
- Come lie down in my bed.
- No, I'll lie down on the floor.
You? What a blessing!
- Forgive me.
- I love you.
- Please, forgive me.
- Forgive you what?
Forgive me for everything
I did.
I love you more...

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