icholas might come in to say good night.

"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha.

She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the door
which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and rushed
from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow.

Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did not
understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world.

Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his attention
to her nephew who had entered the room.

At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which
resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had kissed
the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and went to the
window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but she would not let
him go.

"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so please
don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come immediately."

Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the first
time she has talked of him like that."

CHAPTER XVII

Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few minutes
later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with Natasha. Natasha
was calm, though a severe and grave expression had again settled on her
face. They all three of them now experienced that feeling of awkwardness
which usually follows after a serious and heartfelt talk. It is
impossible to go back to the same conversation, to talk of trifles is
awkward, and yet the desire to speak is there and silence seems like
affectation. They went silently to table. The footmen drew back the
chairs and pushed them up again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin
and, resolving to break the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess
Mary. They had evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of
both shone with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life
also has joy.

"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words
suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about yourself,"
said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you."

"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to him.
"They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna
invited me to her house and kept telling me what had happened, or ought
to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought
to tell of my exp