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"
I
think
...
"
Pierre
replied
,
"
that
he
has
nothing
to
forgive
...
If
I
were
in
his
place
...
"
By
association
of
ideas
,
Pierre
was
at
once
carried
back
to
the
day
when
,
trying
to
comfort
her
,
he
had
said
that
if
he
were
not
himself
but
the
best
man
in
the
world
and
free
,
he
would
ask
on
his
knees
for
her
hand
;
and
the
same
feeling
of
pity
,
tenderness
,
and
love
took
possession
of
him
and
the
same
words
rose
to
his
lips
.
But
she
did
not
give
him
time
to
say
them
.
"
Yes
,
you
...
you
...
"
she
said
,
uttering
the
word
you
rapturously
--
"
that
's
a
different
thing
.
I
know
no
one
kinder
,
more
generous
,
or
better
than
you
;
nobody
could
be
!
Had
you
not
been
there
then
,
and
now
too
,
I
do
n't
know
what
would
have
become
of
me
,
because
...
"
Tears
suddenly
rose
in
her
eyes
,
she
turned
away
,
lifted
her
music
before
her
eyes
,
began
singing
again
,
and
again
began
walking
up
and
down
the
room
.
Just
then
Pétya
came
running
in
from
the
drawing
room
.
Pétya
was
now
a
handsome
rosy
lad
of
fifteen
with
full
red
lips
and
resembled
Natásha
.
He
was
preparing
to
enter
the
university
,
but
he
and
his
friend
Obolénski
had
lately
,
in
secret
,
agreed
to
join
the
hussars
.
Pétya
had
come
rushing
out
to
talk
to
his
namesake
about
this
affair
.
He
had
asked
Pierre
to
find
out
whether
he
would
be
accepted
in
the
hussars
.
Pierre
walked
up
and
down
the
drawing
room
,
not
listening
to
what
Pétya
was
saying
.
Pétya
pulled
him
by
the
arm
to
attract
his
attention
.
