"You have saved my life. You are French," said he.

　　For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchmancould perform a great deed, and to save his life- the life of M.Ramballe, captain of the 13th Light Regiment- was undoubtedly a verygreat deed.

　　But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's convictionbased upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him.

　　"I am Russian," he said quickly.

　　"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving hisfinger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all aboutthat presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and whatare we to do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre asto a brother.

　　Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received thatloftiest of human appellations he could not renounce it, said theofficer's look and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre againexplained who Makar Alexeevich was and how just before their arrivalthat drunken imbecile had seized the loaded pistol which they hadnot had time to recover from him, and begged the officer to let thedeed go unpunished.

　　The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture withhis arm.

　　"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grantit you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, andtaking the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman forsaving his life, he went with him into the room.

　　The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passageasking what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punishthe culprits, but the officer sternly checked them.

　　"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said.

　　The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhilehad time to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer.

　　"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," saidhe. "Shall I serve them up?"

　　"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain.BK11|CH29