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"
One
thing
would
be
terrible
,
"
said
he
:
"
to
bind
oneself
forever
to
a
suffering
man
.
It
would
be
continual
torture
.
"
And
he
looked
searchingly
at
her
.
Natásha
as
usual
answered
before
she
had
time
to
think
what
she
would
say
.
She
said
:
"
This
ca
n't
go
on
--
it
wo
n't
.
You
will
get
well
--
quite
well
.
"
She
now
saw
him
from
the
commencement
of
that
scene
and
relived
what
she
had
then
felt
.
She
recalled
his
long
sad
and
severe
look
at
those
words
and
understood
the
meaning
of
the
rebuke
and
despair
in
that
protracted
gaze
.
"
I
agreed
,
"
Natásha
now
said
to
herself
,
"
that
it
would
be
dreadful
if
he
always
continued
to
suffer
.
I
said
it
then
only
because
it
would
have
been
dreadful
for
him
,
but
he
understood
it
differently
.
He
thought
it
would
be
dreadful
for
me
.
He
then
still
wished
to
live
and
feared
death
.
And
I
said
it
so
awkwardly
and
stupidly
!
I
did
not
say
what
I
meant
.
I
thought
quite
differently
.
Had
I
said
what
I
thought
,
I
should
have
said
:
even
if
he
had
to
go
on
dying
,
to
die
continually
before
my
eyes
,
I
should
have
been
happy
compared
with
what
I
am
now
.
Now
there
is
nothing
...
nobody
.
Did
he
know
that
?
No
,
he
did
not
and
never
will
know
it
.
And
now
it
will
never
,
never
be
possible
to
put
it
right
.
"
And
now
he
again
seemed
to
be
saying
the
same
words
to
her
,
only
in
her
imagination
Natásha
this
time
gave
him
a
different
answer
.
She
stopped
him
and
said
:
"
Terrible
for
you
,
but
not
for
me
!
You
know
that
for
me
there
is
nothing
in
life
but
you
,
and
to
suffer
with
you
is
the
greatest
happiness
for
me
,
"
and
he
took
her
hand
and
pressed
it
as
he
had
pressed
it
that
terrible
evening
four
days
before
his
death
And
in
her
imagination
she
said
other
tender
and
loving
words
which
she
might
have
said
then
but
only
spoke
now
:
"
I
love
thee
!
...
thee
!
I
love
,
love
...
"
she
said
,
convulsively
pressing
her
hands
and
setting
her
teeth
with
a
desperate
effort
...
She
was
overcome
by
sweet
sorrow
and
tears
were
already
rising
in
her
eyes
;
then
she
suddenly
asked
herself
to
whom
she
was
saying
this
.
Again
everything
was
shrouded
in
hard
,
dry
perplexity
,
and
again
with
a
strained
frown
she
peered
toward
the
world
where
he
was
.
And
now
,
now
it
seemed
to
her
she
was
penetrating
the
mystery
...
But
at
the
instant
when
it
seemed
that
the
incomprehensible
was
revealing
itself
to
her
a
loud
rattle
of
the
door
handle
struck
painfully
on
her
ears
.
Dunyásha
,
her
maid
,
entered
the
room
quickly
and
abruptly
with
a
frightened
look
on
her
face
and
showing
no
concern
for
her
mistress
.
"
Come
to
your
Papa
at
once
,
please
!
"
said
she
with
a
strange
,
excited
look
.
"
A
misfortune
...
about
Peter
Ilýnich
...
a
letter
,
"
she
finished
with
a
sob
.
Besides
a
feeling
of
aloofness
from
everybody
Natásha
was
feeling
a
special
estrangement
from
the
members
of
her
own
family
.
All
of
them
--
her
father
,
mother
,
and
Sónya
--
were
so
near
to
her
,
so
familiar
,
so
commonplace
,
that
all
their
words
and
feelings
seemed
an
insult
to
the
world
in
which
she
had
been
living
of
late
,
and
she
felt
not
merely
indifferent
to
them
but
regarded
them
with
hostility
.
She
heard
Dunyásha
's
words
about
Peter
Ilýnich
and
a
misfortune
,
but
did
not
grasp
them
.
"
What
misfortune
?
What
misfortune
can
happen
to
them
?
They
just
live
their
own
old
,
quiet
,
and
commonplace
life
,
"
thought
Natásha
.
As
she
entered
the
ballroom
her
father
was
hurriedly
coming
out
of
her
mother
's
room
.
His
face
was
puckered
up
and
wet
with
tears
.
He
had
evidently
run
out
of
that
room
to
give
vent
to
the
sobs
that
were
choking
him
.
When
he
saw
Natásha
he
waved
his
arms
despairingly
and
burst
into
convulsively
painful
sobs
that
distorted
his
soft
round
face
.
