Three days after the review and a near 40 mile march south, Denisov’s squadron was assigned to be a reserve unit in the early stages of the monumental Battle of Austerlitz.

Rostov was in something of a depression, as he wasted the inner struggle it took to conquer his apprehension. While idle, he observed squadrons of Cossacks, hussars, infantry and artillery pass. Around 9 a.m., he heard firing and shouts. Later, a handful of French prisoners were brought back. A successful small affair culminated and the Village of Wishau was taken, building false confidence. The morning glitter of the sun was in keeping with news of the victory.

Denisov tried to cheer up Rostov, “Come here. Let’s dwink to dwown our gwief!” A fellow Hussar soon noticed: “There! They are bringing another!,” pointing to a captive French dragoon along with his horse. Denisov was able to buy the horse for two gold pieces with money from Rostov. The prisoner was from Alsace, a Rhine border area heavily influenced by German speakers. The Hussars realized their prisoner brought aspects of culture so alien to them. Such contacts and influences would have profound impact on the progression of history.

The day takes a dramatic upon shouts of “The Emperor! The Emperor!” as The Imperial Guard was spotted. All regret at not getting into action vanished and Rostov mounted his horse with joy. Nearer to him came that human sun and Rostov felt enveloped in his rays.

Rostov again heard Alexander’s voice, so kindly and calm, inquiring if he was passing “The Pavlograd Hussars.” The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander’s face shone with gaiety and youth. Rostov believed the Emperor’s light blue eyes met his but could only hope Alexander understood what was within his soul. The Czar soon signaled his horse and galloped away.

Tolstoy describes how Alexander could not resist being present and was thrilled by news of the successful engagement. The battle was represented as a brilliant victory, however, there was a mistaken belief that a solid portion of the French were retreating.

The Pavlograds were ordered to advance to Wischau -- described as a quant German town. Rostov saw the Emperor for a third time, here at a market place where there had been heavy firing and lay several killed and wounded.

The Emperor was riding a mare and leaning while holding at some magnifying glasses (a lorgnette). He gazed at a bleeding soldier who was so revolting that his proximity to royalty bothered Rostov. An adjutant lifted the soldier to place him on a stretcher, causing the soldier to groan. The Czar, so enthusiastic to put men in peril, instructed: “Gently, gently! Can’t you do it more gently?” Soon enough he rode away. Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor’s eyes and heard him say to his close advisor, Adam Czartorýski: “What a terrible thing war! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!”

Soon enough, the Pavlograd Hussars were stationed before Wischau. The Emperor’s gratitude was announced, rewards were promised and the men received a double ration of vodka. The campfires crackled and soldiers’ songs resounded.

Denisov celebrated a promotion to the rank of major, and Rostov, quite inebriated, proposed a toast. To the “the health of our Sovereign, that good, enchanting and great man! Let us drink to his health and to the certain defeat of the French! If we fought before, not letting the French pass at Schön Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We will all die for him gladly! Is it not so? Perhaps I am not saying it right, I have drunk a good deal—but that is how I feel, and so do you! To the health of Alexander the First!" Hurrah! Hurrah!” responded the Hussars. Even the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted no less sincerely.

Later that night, Denisov patted Rostov and announced: “As there’s no one to fall in love with on campaign, he’s fallen in love with the Czar!.” Rostov told Denisov not to belittle his emotions and walked off to wander among the campfires, dreaming of what happiness it would be to die—not in saving the Emperor’s life but simply to die before his eyes. He was in love with the Czar and the hope of future triumph. He was hardly the only one to experience such pathos in those memorable moments preceding the true affair at Austerlitz.