Two sergeants major were sitting with them and their campfire blazed brighter than others.
"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he stood by the campfire listening to the talk.
When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.
Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an unharnessed cart where there was nobody.
Ramballe refused food and resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, looking at the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes.