Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but could not move it.

He smashed a pane.
"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre.
Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with a crash.
"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov.
"Is the Englishman bragging ?...

Eh?
Is it all right ?" said Anatole.
"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of rum in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of the sky, the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible.
Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window sill.

"Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those in the room.

All were silent.
"I bet fifty imperials"-- he spoke French that the Englishman might understand him, but he did, not speak it very well--"I bet fifty imperials...