BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812
11. CHAPTER XI
And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression,
took a small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the
Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and
went away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment,
then looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told
him something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice:
"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the
odd bits he turned and went out.
"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said
they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old
folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's
close.' He's naked, but yet he's given it back."
Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the
"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went
back into the shed.