na went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on her
that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that nobody
would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would undertake
to forget it all and not let anyone see that something had happened.
Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she grew cold
and had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under her head,
covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some lime-flower
water, but Natasha did not respond to her.

"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went out of the room
supposing Natasha to be asleep.

But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she
looked straight before her. All that night she did not sleep or weep and
did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her several times.

Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time for
lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the affair with
the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep
him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed. Marya
Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had been very unwell the
day before and that they had sent for the doctor, but that she was
better now. Natasha had not left her room that morning. With compressed
and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she sat at the window, uneasily
watching the people who drove past and hurriedly glancing round at
anyone who entered the room. She was evidently expecting news of him and
that he would come or would write to her.

When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the sound
of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and malevolent
expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What is the matter
with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count.

After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill."

In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so dejected
and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she assured him
that nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. Marya Dmitrievna
confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened. From
the pretense of illness, from his daughter's distress, and by the
embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly
that something had gone wrong during his absence, but it was so terrible
for him to think that anything disgraceful had happened to his belove