ad found Prince Andrew. But Pierre's face
quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager restless expression,
gradually compelled her to go into details which she feared to recall
for her own sake.

"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her with
his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so he
grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always sought one
thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of death.
The faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he did
soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, suddenly
turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of tears.

Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a moment.
She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not.

"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its
deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. "And
he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I entered
the room...."

Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her
knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted her
head and began to speak rapidly.

"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare to
ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with us. I
had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I wanted was
to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and breathing quickly.

And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she had
never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during those
three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl.

Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full of
tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of death,
nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only pity for
her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking.

Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat beside
Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last days of
her brother's and Natasha's love.

Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale.

She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate secrets of
her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. Several times she
repeated the same thing twice.

Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little
N