n speaking to him, looking at and indicating the Rostovs'
box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing between
the rows, came toward their box. When he got there he leaned on his
elbows and, smiling, talked to her for a long time. While conversing
with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and
something told her it was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met.
Almost smiling, he gazed straight into her eyes with such an enraptured
caressing look that it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him
like that, to be so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with
him.

In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there was a
round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were raised over
the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep notes while many
people appeared from right and left wearing black cloaks and holding
things like daggers in their hands. They began waving their arms. Then
some other people ran in and began dragging away the maiden who had been
in white and was now in light blue. They did not drag her away at once,
but sang with her for a long time and then at last dragged her off, and
behind the scenes something metallic was struck three times and
everyone knelt down and sang a prayer. All these things were repeatedly
interrupted by the enthusiastic shouts of the audience.

During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she saw
Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, staring
at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her and it did
not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it.

When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the
Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count
with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered
her box began talking to him with an amiable smile.

"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The
whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know then!"

Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so pleased
by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with pleasure.

"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it you're
not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?"

Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating
woman. She could say what she did not think--especially wh