-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Лев Толстой
-
- Война и мир
-
- Стр. 389/1273
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Nikólenka
,
what
is
the
matter
?
"
Sónya
's
eyes
fixed
on
him
seemed
to
ask
.
She
noticed
at
once
that
something
had
happened
to
him
.
Nicholas
turned
away
from
her
.
Natásha
too
,
with
her
quick
instinct
,
had
instantly
noticed
her
brother
's
condition
.
But
,
though
she
noticed
it
,
she
was
herself
in
such
high
spirits
at
that
moment
,
so
far
from
sorrow
,
sadness
,
or
self-reproach
,
that
she
purposely
deceived
herself
as
young
people
often
do
.
"
No
,
I
am
too
happy
now
to
spoil
my
enjoyment
by
sympathy
with
anyone
's
sorrow
,
"
she
felt
,
and
she
said
to
herself
:
"
No
,
I
must
be
mistaken
,
he
must
be
feeling
happy
,
just
as
I
am
.
"
"
Now
,
Sónya
!
"
she
said
,
going
to
the
very
middle
of
the
room
,
where
she
considered
the
resonance
was
best
.
Having
lifted
her
head
and
let
her
arms
droop
lifelessly
,
as
ballet
dancers
do
,
Natásha
,
rising
energetically
from
her
heels
to
her
toes
,
stepped
to
the
middle
of
the
room
and
stood
still
.
"
Yes
,
that
's
me
!
"
she
seemed
to
say
,
answering
the
rapt
gaze
with
which
Denísov
followed
her
.
"
And
what
is
she
so
pleased
about
?
"
thought
Nicholas
,
looking
at
his
sister
.
"
Why
is
n't
she
dull
and
ashamed
?
"
Natásha
took
the
first
note
,
her
throat
swelled
,
her
chest
rose
,
her
eyes
became
serious
.
At
that
moment
she
was
oblivious
of
her
surroundings
,
and
from
her
smiling
lips
flowed
sounds
which
anyone
may
produce
at
the
same
intervals
and
hold
for
the
same
time
,
but
which
leave
you
cold
a
thousand
times
and
the
thousand
and
first
time
thrill
you
and
make
you
weep
.
Natásha
,
that
winter
,
had
for
the
first
time
begun
to
sing
seriously
,
mainly
because
Denísov
so
delighted
in
her
singing
.
She
no
longer
sang
as
a
child
,
there
was
no
longer
in
her
singing
that
comical
,
childish
,
painstaking
effect
that
had
been
in
it
before
;
but
she
did
not
yet
sing
well
,
as
all
the
connoisseurs
who
heard
her
said
:
"
It
is
not
trained
,
but
it
is
a
beautiful
voice
that
must
be
trained
.
"
Only
they
generally
said
this
some
time
after
she
had
finished
singing
.
While
that
untrained
voice
,
with
its
incorrect
breathing
and
labored
transitions
,
was
sounding
,
even
the
connoisseurs
said
nothing
,
but
only
delighted
in
it
and
wished
to
hear
it
again
.
In
her
voice
there
was
a
virginal
freshness
,
an
unconsciousness
of
her
own
powers
,
and
an
as
yet
untrained
velvety
softness
,
which
so
mingled
with
her
lack
of
art
in
singing
that
it
seemed
as
if
nothing
in
that
voice
could
be
altered
without
spoiling
it
.
"
What
is
this
?
"
thought
Nicholas
,
listening
to
her
with
widely
opened
eyes
.
"
What
has
happened
to
her
?
How
she
is
singing
today
!
"
And
suddenly
the
whole
world
centered
for
him
on
anticipation
of
the
next
note
,
the
next
phrase
,
and
everything
in
the
world
was
divided
into
three
beats
:
"
Oh
mio
crudele
affetto
