t was in
Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother and aunt, and in every Russian
man and woman.

"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a
joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine
young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!"

"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling.

"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, who
nodded her head with a happy smile.

"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new train
of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile mean
when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is as if he
thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our gaiety. But
he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, and her face
suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. "Don't dare
to think about it," she said to herself, and sat down again smilingly
beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more.

"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he cleared
his throat and sang his favorite hunting song:

As 'twas growing dark last night
Fell the snow so soft and light...

"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that the
whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune comes of
itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which exists
only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the unconsidered
tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily good. Natasha was in
ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to give up learning the
harp and to play only the guitar. She asked "Uncle" for his guitar and
at once found the chords of the song.

After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been sent
to look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count and
countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, said one of
the men.

Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two
traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped
Natasha up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. He
accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be crossed,
so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent huntsmen to ride
in front with lanterns.

"Good-by, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the
voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that