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"
...
One
,
two
,
three
...
one
,
two
,
three
...
One
...
"
Oh
mio
crudele
affetto
.
"
...
One
,
two
,
three
...
One
.
"
Oh
,
this
senseless
life
of
ours
!
"
thought
Nicholas
.
"
All
this
misery
,
and
money
,
and
Dólokhov
,
and
anger
,
and
honor
--
it
's
all
nonsense
...
but
this
is
real
...
Now
then
,
Natásha
,
now
then
,
dearest
!
Now
then
,
darling
!
How
will
she
take
that
si
?
She
's
taken
it
!
Thank
God
!
"
And
without
noticing
that
he
was
singing
,
to
strengthen
the
si
he
sung
a
second
,
a
third
below
the
high
note
.
"
Ah
,
God
!
How
fine
!
Did
I
really
take
it
?
How
fortunate
!
"
he
thought
.
Oh
,
how
that
chord
vibrated
,
and
how
moved
was
something
that
was
finest
in
Rostóv
's
soul
!
And
this
something
was
apart
from
everything
else
in
the
world
and
above
everything
in
the
world
.
"
What
were
losses
,
and
Dólokhov
,
and
words
of
honor
?
...
All
nonsense
!
One
might
kill
and
rob
and
yet
be
happy
...
"
It
was
long
since
Rostóv
had
felt
such
enjoyment
from
music
as
he
did
that
day
.
But
no
sooner
had
Natásha
finished
her
barcarolle
than
reality
again
presented
itself
.
He
got
up
without
saying
a
word
and
went
downstairs
to
his
own
room
.
A
quarter
of
an
hour
later
the
old
count
came
in
from
his
club
,
cheerful
and
contented
.
Nicholas
,
hearing
him
drive
up
,
went
to
meet
him
.
"
Well
--
had
a
good
time
?
"
said
the
old
count
,
smiling
gaily
and
proudly
at
his
son
.
Nicholas
tried
to
say
"
Yes
,
"
but
could
not
:
and
he
nearly
burst
into
sobs
.
The
count
was
lighting
his
pipe
and
did
not
notice
his
son
's
condition
.
"
Ah
,
it
ca
n't
be
avoided
!
"
thought
Nicholas
,
for
the
first
and
last
time
.
And
suddenly
,
in
the
most
casual
tone
,
which
made
him
feel
ashamed
of
himself
,
he
said
,
as
if
merely
asking
his
father
to
let
him
have
the
carriage
to
drive
to
town
:
"
Papa
,
I
have
come
on
a
matter
of
business
.
I
was
nearly
forgetting
.
I
need
some
money
.
"
"
Dear
me
!
"
said
his
father
,
who
was
in
a
specially
good
humor
.
"
I
told
you
it
would
not
be
enough
.
How
much
?
"
"
Very
much
,
"
said
Nicholas
flushing
,
and
with
a
stupid
careless
smile
,
for
which
he
was
long
unable
to
forgive
himself
,
"
I
have
lost
a
little
,
I
mean
a
good
deal
,
a
great
deal
--
forty
three
thousand
.
"
"
What
!
To
whom
?
...
Nonsense
!
"
cried
the
count
,
suddenly
reddening
with
an
apoplectic
flush
over
neck
and
nape
as
old
people
do
.
