id any pretext for finding fault
with us."

Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask his
advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old countess
sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting frightened lest
she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for leaving them
alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew spoke (he
could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him with pride; when
she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed attentively and
scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in perplexity: "What does he
look for in me? He is trying to discover something by looking at me!
What if what he seeks in me is not there?" Sometimes she fell into one
of the mad, merry moods characteristic of her, and then she particularly
loved to hear and see how Prince Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but
when he did he abandoned himself entirely to his laughter, and after
such a laugh she always felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been
completely happy if the thought of the separation awaiting her and
drawing near had not terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made
him turn pale and cold.

On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought with
him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. Pierre
seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the countess,
and Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby
inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so.

"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?"

"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd."

And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of his
absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him.

"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known him from
childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," Prince Andrew
said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and heaven knows what may
happen. You may cease to... all right, I know I am not to say that. Only
this, then: whatever may happen to you when I am not here..."

"What can happen?"

"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you,
Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for
advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but he
has a heart of gold."

Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew himself
could have fo