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Christmas
came
and
except
for
the
ceremonial
Mass
,
the
solemn
and
wearisome
Christmas
congratulations
from
neighbors
and
servants
,
and
the
new
dresses
everyone
put
on
,
there
were
no
special
festivities
,
though
the
calm
frost
of
twenty
degrees
Réaumur
,
the
dazzling
sunshine
by
day
,
and
the
starlight
of
the
winter
nights
seemed
to
call
for
some
special
celebration
of
the
season
.
On
the
third
day
of
Christmas
week
,
after
the
midday
dinner
,
all
the
inmates
of
the
house
dispersed
to
various
rooms
.
It
was
the
dullest
time
of
the
day
.
Nicholas
,
who
had
been
visiting
some
neighbors
that
morning
,
was
asleep
on
the
sitting-room
sofa
.
The
old
count
was
resting
in
his
study
.
Sónya
sat
in
the
drawing
room
at
the
round
table
,
copying
a
design
for
embroidery
.
The
countess
was
playing
patience
.
Nastásya
Ivánovna
the
buffoon
sat
with
a
sad
face
at
the
window
with
two
old
ladies
.
Natásha
came
into
the
room
,
went
up
to
Sónya
,
glanced
at
what
she
was
doing
,
and
then
went
up
to
her
mother
and
stood
without
speaking
.
"
Why
are
you
wandering
about
like
an
outcast
?
"
asked
her
mother
.
"
What
do
you
want
?
"
"
Him
...
I
want
him
...
now
,
this
minute
!
I
want
him
!
"
said
Natásha
,
with
glittering
eyes
and
no
sign
of
a
smile
.
The
countess
lifted
her
head
and
looked
attentively
at
her
daughter
.
"
Do
n't
look
at
me
,
Mamma
!
Do
n't
look
;
I
shall
cry
directly
.
"
"
Sit
down
with
me
a
little
,
"
said
the
countess
.
"
Mamma
,
I
want
him
.
Why
should
I
be
wasted
like
this
,
Mamma
?
"
Her
voice
broke
,
tears
gushed
from
her
eyes
,
and
she
turned
quickly
to
hide
them
and
left
the
room
.
She
passed
into
the
sitting
room
,
stood
there
thinking
awhile
,
and
then
went
into
the
maids
'
room
.
There
an
old
maidservant
was
grumbling
at
a
young
girl
who
stood
panting
,
having
just
run
in
through
the
cold
from
the
serfs
'
quarters
.
