Page 1671 - war-and-peace

heard.
While waiting for the young man to take his place on the
step Rostopchin stood frowning and rubbing his face with
his hand.
‘Lads!’ said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. ‘This
man, Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Mos-
cow is perishing.’
The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little,
stood in a submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before
him. His emaciated young face, disfigured by the half-shav-
en head, hung down hopelessly. At the count’s first words
he raised it slowly and looked up at him as if wishing to say
something or at least to meet his eye. But Rostopchin did
not look at him. A vein in the young man’s long thin neck
swelled like a cord and went blue behind the ear, and sud-
denly his face flushed.
All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and
rendered more hopeful by the expression he read on the fac-
es there, he smiled sadly and timidly, and lowering his head
shifted his feet on the step.
‘He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he had gone
over to Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced
the Russian name, he has caused Moscow to perish,’ said
Rostopchin in a sharp, even voice, but suddenly he glanced
down at Vereshchagin who continued to stand in the same
submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, he raised
his arm and addressed the people, almost shouting:
‘Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you.’
The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and

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