Chapter 5

           

           NicholasRostóvmeanwhileremainedathispost,waitingforthewolf.Bythewaythehuntapproachedandreceded,bythecriesofthedogswhosenoteswerefamiliartohim,bythewaythevoicesofthehuntsmenapproached,receded,androse,herealizedwhatwashappeningatthecopse.Heknewthatyoungandoldwolveswerethere,thatthehoundshadseparatedintotwopacks,thatsomewhereawolfwasbeingchased,andthatsomethinghadgonewrong.Heexpectedthewolftocomehiswayanymoment.Hemadethousandsofdifferentconjecturesastowhereandfromwhatsidethebeastwouldcomeandhowhewouldsetuponit.Hopealternatedwithdespair.SeveraltimesheaddressedaprayertoGodthatthewolfshouldcomehisway.Heprayedwiththatpassionateandshamefacedfeelingwithwhichmenprayatmomentsofgreatexcitementarisingfromtrivialcauses.“WhatwoulditbetoTheetodothisforme?”hesaidtoGod.“IknowThouartgreat,andthatitisasintoaskthisofThee,butforGod’ssakedolettheoldwolfcomemywayandletKaráyspringatit—insightof‘Uncle’whoiswatchingfromoverthere—andseizeitbythethroatinadeathgrip!”Athousandtimesduringthathalf-hourRostóvcasteagerandrestlessglancesovertheedgeofthewood,withthetwoscraggyoaksrisingabovetheaspenundergrowthandthegullywithitswater-wornsideand“Uncle’s”capjustvisibleabovethebushonhisright.

           “No,Ishan’thavesuchluck,”thoughtRostóv,“yetwhatwouldn’titbeworth!Itisnottobe!Everywhere,atcardsandinwar,Iamalwaysunlucky.

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