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"
I
am
sure
you
're
not
telling
us
everything
;
I
am
sure
you
did
something
...
"
said
Natásha
and
pausing
added
,
"
something
fine
?
"
Pierre
continued
.
When
he
spoke
of
the
execution
he
wanted
to
pass
over
the
horrible
details
,
but
Natásha
insisted
that
he
should
not
omit
anything
.
Pierre
began
to
tell
about
Karatáev
,
but
paused
.
By
this
time
he
had
risen
from
the
table
and
was
pacing
the
room
,
Natásha
following
him
with
her
eyes
.
Then
he
added
:
"
No
,
you
ca
n't
understand
what
I
learned
from
that
illiterate
man
--
that
simple
fellow
.
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
go
on
!
"
said
Natásha
.
"
Where
is
he
?
"
"
They
killed
him
almost
before
my
eyes
.
"
And
Pierre
,
his
voice
trembling
continually
,
went
on
to
tell
of
the
last
days
of
their
retreat
,
of
Karatáev
's
illness
and
his
death
.
He
told
of
his
adventures
as
he
had
never
yet
recalled
them
.
He
now
,
as
it
were
,
saw
a
new
meaning
in
all
he
had
gone
through
.
Now
that
he
was
telling
it
all
to
Natásha
he
experienced
that
pleasure
which
a
man
has
when
women
listen
to
him
--
not
clever
women
who
when
listening
either
try
to
remember
what
they
hear
to
enrich
their
minds
and
when
opportunity
offers
to
retell
it
,
or
who
wish
to
adopt
it
to
some
thought
of
their
own
and
promptly
contribute
their
own
clever
comments
prepared
in
their
little
mental
workshop
--
but
the
pleasure
given
by
real
women
gifted
with
a
capacity
to
select
and
absorb
the
very
best
a
man
shows
of
himself
.
Natásha
without
knowing
it
was
all
attention
:
she
did
not
lose
a
word
,
no
single
quiver
in
Pierre
's
voice
,
no
look
,
no
twitch
of
a
muscle
in
his
face
,
nor
a
single
gesture
.
She
caught
the
unfinished
word
in
its
flight
and
took
it
straight
into
her
open
heart
,
divining
the
secret
meaning
of
all
Pierre
's
mental
travail
.
Princess
Mary
understood
his
story
and
sympathized
with
him
,
but
she
now
saw
something
else
that
absorbed
all
her
attention
.
She
saw
the
possibility
of
love
and
happiness
between
Natásha
and
Pierre
,
and
the
first
thought
of
this
filled
her
heart
with
gladness
.
