Natasha Sentence Examples
Heidi Stephenson and Natasha Langridge Twenty leading contemporary dramatists discuss their work from the perspective of being both writers and women.
Natasha p.3 I keep the hamster I keep the toys in I keep the hamster out!
Natasha uses psychometry, and Kiell uses Shere Khan to " sniff out " Harris.
Miss Natasha Wind Natasha is an experienced research technician whose work focuses on cell biology.
You see... was all Natasha managed to utter (to her everything seemed funny).
Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish things.
Having said this he glanced at Natasha.
Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha.
When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the conservatory.
At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the flower tubs and hid there.
AdvertisementNatasha, very still, peered out from her ambush, waiting to see what he would do.
Natasha was about to call him but changed her mind.
Natasha checked her first impulse to run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watching--as under an invisible cap--to see what went on in the world.
Boris and Natasha were at the other window and ceased talking when Vera entered.
Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces.
AdvertisementAnd at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or between you two?
This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov regiment with whom Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom Natasha had teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her "intended."
She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and, having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with the pleasure of her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to Pierre.
Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting opposite.
Natasha, who sat opposite, was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for the first time.
AdvertisementWhat sweets are we going to have? and Natasha's voice sounded still more firm and resolute.
I have asked, whispered Natasha to her little brother and to Pierre, glancing at him again.
Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be pineapple ice.
After she had played a little air with variations on the harp, she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nicholas, who were noted for their musical talent, to sing something.
Natasha, who was treated as though she were grown up, was evidently very proud of this but at the same time felt shy.
AdvertisementBoris, come here, said Natasha.
Natasha wept, sitting on the blue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend.
Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?...
Natasha lifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting her.
And he is so clever and so good! said Natasha.
Natasha kissed her on the hair.
Natasha was perfectly happy; she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad.
Just look at her! exclaimed the countess as she crossed the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.
Natasha blushed and laughed.
Natasha kept pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!" though as it was they never took their eyes off the couple.
I'm sure of it! exclaimed Natasha, reading confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face.
Natasha, seeing the impression the news of her brother's wound produced on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the news.
Natasha smiled through her tears.
Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's silence.
Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and said nothing.
But Natasha had not yet felt anything like it.
Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya now entered the room, and the reading of the letter began.
After a brief description of the campaign and the two battles in which he had taken part, and his promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his father's and mother's hands asking for their blessing, and that he kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya.
This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked at her reproachfully.
Natasha... sabretache... saber them...
He could not distinguish which was Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya.
Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count were all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the room, exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing.
Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his face with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang away and pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked piercingly.
Denisov blushed too, but smiled and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it.
It's nearly ten o'clock, answered Natasha's voice.
It was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had come to see whether they were getting up.
Natasha's voice was again heard at the door.
Come out in your dressing gown! said Natasha's voice.
Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just getting her foot into the other.
Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother's arm, led him into the sitting room, where they began talking.
Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what used to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly bright eyes, Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood which had no meaning for anyone else, but gave him some of the best joys of his life; and the burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of love did not seem to him senseless, he understood and was not surprised at it.
Isn't it? asked Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that what she was now saying she had talked of before, with tears.
Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran back a few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes.
And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile.
Her looks asked him to forgive her for having dared, by Natasha's intermediacy, to remind him of his promise, and then thanked him for his love.
Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sonya, Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading this love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match-- blushed like a girl.
Natasha's prediction proved true.
He was pointedly attentive to Sonya and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha blushed when they saw his looks.
Sonya, Dolokhov, and the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a lesser degree Natasha.
Please do! said Natasha.
He called Natasha and asked her what was the matter.
He tried to say, "That's capital; of course she'll forget her childish promises and accept the offer," but before he had time to say it Natasha began again.
And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away.
Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real ball was even happier.
Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom.
Denisov sat down by the old ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, told them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the young people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best pupil, were the first couple.
Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with his little feet in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with Natasha, who, though shy, went on carefully executing her steps.
When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and, tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran timidly to the corner where Denisov sat.
Natasha guessed what he meant to do, and abandoning herself to him followed his lead hardly knowing how.
When at last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, he drew up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not even make him a curtsy.
Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and mopping himself with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not leave her for the rest of the evening.
With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will certainly never touch a card again."
At that moment his home life, jokes with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with his father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the Povarskaya rose before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm that it seemed as if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, long past.
Natasha was preparing to sing.
Natasha too, with her quick instinct, had instantly noticed her brother's condition.
Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her eyes became serious.
Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing seriously, mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing.
But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than reality again presented itself.
Natasha came running to her mother, quite excited.
I am telling you the fact, said Natasha indignantly.
It's all very well for you, said Natasha, with a responsive smile.
I shall speak to him myself, said the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this little Natasha as grown up.
I will tell him myself, and you'll listen at the door, and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing hall, where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord with his face in his hands.
Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight.
During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by his elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old count's house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), Prince Andrew repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among the younger members of the company, and asked himself each time, What is she thinking about?
Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which she had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four years ago.
The memory of Natasha was his most poetic recollection.
But he went with the firm intention of letting her and her parents feel that the childish relations between himself and Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him.
When he entered the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her own room.
This expression on his face pleased Natasha.
Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the change in her.
Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with the countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor.
This Natasha noticed at once.
All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under her brows.
Boris made up his mind to avoid meeting Natasha, but despite that resolution he called again a few days later and began calling often and spending whole days at the Rostovs'.
It seemed to him that he ought to have an explanation with Natasha and tell her that the old times must be forgotten, that in spite of everything... she could not be his wife, that he had no means, and they would never let her marry him.
It seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in love with Boris as of old.
Natasha jumped on it, sank into the feather bed, rolled over to the wall, and began snuggling up the bedclothes as she settled down, raising her knees to her chin, kicking out and laughing almost inaudibly, now covering herself up head and all, and now peeping at her mother.
The countess finished her prayers and came to the bed with a stern face, but seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in her kind, weak way.
In her behavior to her mother Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that however she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without hurting her or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased.
These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from his club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and daughter.
Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth.
Natasha, you are sixteen.
Natasha was lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the mahogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the countess only saw her daughter's face in profile.
Natasha was listening and considering.
Natasha did not let her finish.
But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have a talk with Boris.
What nonsense! said Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property.
Natasha smiled and looked at her mother.
Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, and ran barefoot to her own room.
Natasha was going to her first grand ball.
Sonya was finishing dressing and so was the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about helping them all, was behindhand.
Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently.
I can't do it like that, said the maid who was holding Natasha's hair.
They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.
When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under which her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, ran up to Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother.
The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long.
Natasha began putting on the dress.
Charming! cried Natasha, as she stood in the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.
Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not once had time to think of what lay before her.
Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her reflection from the others.
On entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, footsteps, and greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter dazzled her still more.
The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her black hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye involuntarily rested longer on the slim Natasha.
The host also followed Natasha with his eyes and asked the count which was his daughter.
Natasha heard and felt that several people were asking about her and looking at her.
The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears.
The handsome Anatole was smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and looked at Natasha as one looks at a wall.
This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there were nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball.
Natasha gazed at them and was ready to cry because it was not she who was dancing that first turn of the waltz.
The despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his eye.
That tremulous expression on Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.
Prince Andrew was one of the best dancers of his day and Natasha danced exquisitely.
And such was Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and even her mistakes in speaking French.
In the middle of the cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, still out of breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer chose her.
When her partner left her Natasha ran across the room to choose two ladies for the figure.
Such as she are rare here, he thought, as Natasha, readjusting a rose that was slipping on her bodice, settled herself beside him.
On her way to supper Natasha passed him.
Natasha was one of the first to meet him.
After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the clavichord and began singing.
He looked at Natasha as she sang, and something new and joyful stirred in his soul.
As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how he liked her voice.
At the card table he happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious change that had come over her since the ball.
After playing out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking five tricks, Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who had entered the room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again at Natasha.
Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now with his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of the six rubbers he watched her and his friend.
Natasha on one side was talking with Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was saying something to Prince Andrew.
I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?
Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, and without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day.
The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some artificial conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.
Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid of being in the way when she was with them.
Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expectation, when she remained alone with him for a moment.
One can't talk about that, said Natasha.
But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now frightened, lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight before her.
It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince Andrew at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him.
Read them... said her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince Andrew had written in Natasha's album.
How happy I am! cried Natasha, shedding tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother.
At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and telling him of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her his wife.
At the same time the feeling he had noticed between his protegee Natasha and Prince Andrew accentuated his gloom by the contrast between his own position and his friend's.
Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski all day, but he did not come.
Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that Prince Andrew had gone to see his father, could not explain his absence to herself.
Natasha had no desire to go out anywhere and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and listless.
Natasha was looking at the mirror, but did not see herself.
Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room.
As soon as he saw Natasha his face brightened.
He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat down beside the sofa.
I only got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to have a talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause.
Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew and at her mother and went out.
It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?...
Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom.
Natasha was sitting on the bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering something as she rapidly crossed herself.
He is asking for your hand, said the countess, coldly it seemed to Natasha.
Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room.
Natasha murmured as if in vexation.
Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing to take in the meaning of his words.
Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that the marriage was to be postponed for a year.
Natasha did not hear him.
Natasha suddenly cried, and again burst into sobs.
From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as Natasha's affianced lover.
Naturally neither Natasha nor her parents wished to hear of this, but Prince Andrew was firm.
At first the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew; he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha trained the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all that he only appeared to be different, but was really just like all of them, and that she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to be.
He could talk about rural economy with the count, fashions with the countess and Natasha, and about albums and fancywork with Sonya.
Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which she constantly divined.
Prince Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha particularly liked it in him--and said that his son would not live with them.
When Prince Andrew spoke (he could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him with pride; when she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed attentively and scrutinizingly at her.
He was talking to the countess, and Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby inviting Prince Andrew to come too.
He informed her of his engagement to Natasha Rostova.
In 1810 he received letters from his parents, in which they told him of Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in a year's time because the old prince made difficulties.
Petya and Natasha surprised Nicholas most.
As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and laughed whenever he looked at her.
But just as Daniel was about to go Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her hair or finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped round her.
Mamma said you mustn't, said Nicholas to Natasha.
I shall certainly go, said Natasha decisively.
Nicholas, with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no time for attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were trying to tell him something.
Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide her eager face and shining eyes, galloped up to them.
Natasha sat easily and confidently on her black Arabchik and reined him in without effort with a firm hand.
He knew me, said Natasha, referring to her favorite hound.
Rostov, having finally settled with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having shown Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could possibly run out--went round above the ravine.
The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return very soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther.
Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode at a footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds together.
Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden up, stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would end.
Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had followed him in some excitement.
Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly men and her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by it.
At the same moment Natasha, without drawing breath, screamed joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set everyone's ear tingling.
A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for a trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house.
Natasha, Nicholas, and Petya took off their wraps and sat down on the sofa.
Natasha and Nicholas were silent.
They looked at one another (now that the hunt was over and they were in the house, Nicholas no longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority over his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a pretext ready to account for it.
And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one she had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the right thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat.
Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten such buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, or such a chicken anywhere.
After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes.
Natasha felt so lighthearted and happy in these novel surroundings that she only feared the trap would come for her too soon.
The tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to thrill in the hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the same kind of sober mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole being.
Go on, Uncle, go on! shouted Natasha as soon as he had finished.
Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to face "Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with her shoulders and struck an attitude.
Natasha was in ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing.
Natasha and Nicholas got into the other.
I feel so comfortable! answered Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings.
Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their parents conferring together anxiously and privately and heard suggestions of selling the fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near Moscow.
Natasha was still as much in love with her betrothed, found the same comfort in that love, and was still as ready to throw herself into all the pleasures of life as before; but at the end of the fourth month of their separation she began to have fits of depression which she could not master.
Natasha came into the room, went up to Sonya, glanced at what she was doing, and then went up to her mother and stood without speaking.
I want him! said Natasha, with glittering eyes and no sign of a smile.
Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went to the vestibule.
Natasha liked to test her power over him.
No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble as Natasha did.
Natasha sat down, listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, and then got up again.
Natasha glanced at her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her that she remembered the light falling through that crack once before and Sonya passing with a glass in her hand.
That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in just the same way I thought there was something lacking in her."
But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced round as if looking for something.
The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing in the same way! thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of repulsion rising up in her for the whole household, because they were always the same.
After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began.
And I was innocent--that was the chief thing, said Natasha.
Tell them to take it away, replied Natasha.
Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the table, took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself quietly in her former place.
Natasha rejoined with conviction.
None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break off their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but Natasha got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord.
Standing as usual in the middle of the hall and choosing the place where the resonance was best, Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song.
She thought of Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something unnatural and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince Andrew.
Her maternal instinct told her that Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she would not be happy.
Before Natasha had finished singing, fourteen-year-old Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some mummers had arrived.
An hussar was Natasha, and a Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows.
Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax when they all came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, talking, calling to one another, laughing, and shouting.
Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve in? she asked Natasha.
When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who always saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss should go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and the maids.
Natasha--are you glad?
On Natasha's table stood two looking glasses which Dunyasha had prepared beforehand.
It would be too good! said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses.
Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking glasses, and sat down.
With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held into the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious expression and she sat silent.
What was it? exclaimed Natasha, holding up the looking glass.
Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to get up when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!"
She did not wish to disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to sit still.
Is he ill? asked Natasha, her frightened eyes fixed on her friend.
Natasha began, and without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into bed, and long after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, gazing at the moonlight through the frosty windowpanes.
Listen, Mamma darling, said Natasha.
Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything without his parents' knowledge.
Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her betrothed lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and impatient every day.
Natasha's trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold.
So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya and Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.
At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha and Sonya.
You've grown plumper and prettier, she remarked, drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by the hood.
When they got home she turned everybody out of the room except Natasha, and then called her pet to her armchair.
Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her love of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human affairs that no one could understand it.
Natasha, on the other hand, having put on her best gown, was in the highest spirits.
From the first glance Princess Mary did not like Natasha.
If you'll allow me to leave my Natasha in your hands for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive round to see Anna Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, and then I'll come back for her.
He did not mention this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and anxiety and felt mortified by it.
Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had noticed in the anteroom, by her father's nervousness, and by the unnatural manner of the princess who--she thought--was making a favor of receiving her, and so everything displeased her.
Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and involuntarily assumed an offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still more.
God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated, stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at her father or at Natasha.
God is my witness, I did not know, muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from head to foot he went out.
Natasha and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the longer they did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater grew their antipathy to one another.
Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why.
Natasha noticed this and guessed its reason.
They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day.
Don't talk about it, Natasha.
Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed her wet face against her.
No one's to blame," said Natasha--"It's my fault.
Marya Dmitrievna, who knew how the prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how upset Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the count and the other guests.
Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya Dmitrievna's kind offer which was intended expressly for her.
And his eyes--how I see those eyes! thought Natasha.
Natasha and Sonya, holding up their dresses, jumped out quickly.
A lady entering the next box shot a glance of feminine envy at Natasha.
Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with Sonya and sat down, scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite.
Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the country, and that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly pretty.
Their box was pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which Natasha knew so well and liked so much.
Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and pearls and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls.
While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time the lady looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and smiled.
Natasha too began to look at it.
After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, all this seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha.
And feeling the bright light that flooded the whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not experienced for a long while.
Having looked at Natasha he approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge of her box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a motion toward Natasha.
Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some intrigue of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just because he had said she was "charmante."
The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and Natasha gave Boris a similar smile.
Natasha knew he was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure.
His face looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since Natasha last saw him.
On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing between the rows, came toward their box.
While conversing with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and something told her it was Kuragin.
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.
Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess.
I have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get to know you, said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely smile.
To get better acquainted she asked that one of the young ladies should come into her box for the rest of the performance, and Natasha moved over to it.
Natasha no longer thought this strange.
Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young officer and smiled at him over her bare shoulder.
Natasha knew for certain that he was enraptured by her.
During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's prominent eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to break the silence, asked him how he liked Moscow.
Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an improper intention.
Natasha went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive to the world she found herself in.
That was the only part of the fourth act that Natasha saw.
As he was putting Natasha in he pressed her arm above the elbow.
Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think over what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince Andrew she was horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after the opera, she gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the room.
Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all she was feeling.
So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by herself.
Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin.
Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something which they concealed from Natasha.
Natasha guessed they were talking about the old prince and planning something, and this disquieted and offended her.
To the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was far less tranquil and happy than before.
After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited on the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having shut herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied herself trying on the new dresses.
Natasha had not time to take off the bodice before the door opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a high collar, came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable smiles.
She did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually praising Natasha's beauty.
She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised them, as well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," which she had received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one like it.
A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face.
Natasha brightened up and felt almost in love with this woman, who was so beautiful and so kind.
Helene for her part was sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to give her a good time.
Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha together, and she was calling on the Rostovs for that purpose.
The idea of throwing her brother and Natasha together amused her.
Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this.
And why not enjoy myself? thought Natasha, gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes.
There were a good many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha.
Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and followed her.
Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of her beauty and her dress.
Anatole moved a chair for Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, who never lost sight of her, took the seat himself.
Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor understood anything of what went on before her.
Natasha remarked to her father who had also risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress.
Natasha without saying anything stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring eyes.
Anatole asked Natasha for a valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand and told her she was bewitching and that he loved her.
Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual.
Natasha looked round at her, and then, red and trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and moved toward the door.
Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room.
After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night.
Natasha kept looking uneasily at everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to intercept every glance directed toward her, and tried to appear the same as usual.
After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat down in her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her.
Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed it to Natasha.
Natasha did not reply and went to her own room to read Princess Mary's letter.
Whatever her father's feelings might be, she begged Natasha to believe that she could not help loving her as the one chosen by her brother, for whose happiness she was ready to sacrifice everything.
Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time when she could see her again.
After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to answer it.
After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess Mary's letter.
With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.
I love him! thought Natasha, reading the letter for the twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each word of it.
Natasha, pleading a headache, remained at home.
On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and to her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa.
As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in her face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find it.
Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning her face.
Natasha awoke and saw Sonya.
Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.
But, Natasha, can that be all over?
Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not grasp the question.
Don't talk nonsense, just listen! said Natasha, with momentary vexation.
Natasha, I don't believe you, you're joking!
Sonya, wait a bit, sit here, and Natasha embraced and kissed her.
If you tell, you are my enemy! declared Natasha.
When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity for her friend.
Natasha did not answer her questions.
Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can be?
Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment.
But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.
Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her friend's lack of comprehension.
If you only knew! exclaimed Natasha.
Natasha, I don't understand you.
Don't you know that I love him? screamed Natasha.
Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of despair and repressed irritation.
At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha.
On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there.
At that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she spoke to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through dinner she was more agitated than ever.
When they got home Natasha was the first to begin the explanation Sonya expected.
Natasha, how glad I am you're not angry with me!
Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her.
The more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face became, the more serious and stern grew Sonya's.
I don't trust him, Natasha.
Natasha, I am afraid for you!
Anger again showed in Natasha's face.
And Natasha ran out of the room.
Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her.
The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha sat by the drawing-room window all the morning as if expecting something and that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, whom Sonya took to be Anatole.
Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed that at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and unnatural state.
After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly waiting to let her pass.
Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some dreadful plan for that evening.
Natasha did not let her in.
To tell Marya Dmitrievna who had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible.
Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the back porch at ten that evening.
Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made her confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she read it and went into Natasha's room with it in her hand.
Toward midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket.
Natasha lying on the sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and she did not stir.
Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved with noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her.
She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward her.
Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how Natasha looked.
Who asked you to? shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and looking malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna.
Marya Dmitrievna 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.
But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she looked straight before her.
Natasha had not left her room that morning.
Marya Dmitrievna confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened.
Soon after the Rostovs came to Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to carry out his intention.
When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face.
That Prince Andrew's deeply loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who used to be so charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole who was already secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in love with him as to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre could not conceive and could not imagine.
He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, whom he had known from a child, with this new conception of her baseness, folly, and cruelty.
But still he pitied Prince Andrew to the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded pride, and the more he pitied his friend the more did he think with contempt and even with disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him in the ballroom with such a look of cold dignity.
He did not know that Natasha's soul was overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, and that it was not her fault that her face happened to assume an expression of calm dignity and severity.
That morning Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski.
Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to see you.
Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the corridor to Natasha's room.
Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and her eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look the moment he entered.
Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded animal looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen.
It seemed to him essential to see Natasha.
Pierre saw the distracted count, and Sonya, who had a tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha.
It seemed to Pierre that it was his duty to conceal the whole affair and re-establish Natasha's reputation.
Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which Natasha had broken off her engagement.
As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his father Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement (Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and given it to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of Natasha's elopement, with additions.
She sighed, looking toward the door of the room where Prince Andrew was, evidently intending to express her sympathy with his sorrow, but Pierre saw by her face that she was glad both at what had happened and at the way her brother had taken the news of Natasha's faithlessness.
Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his broad face expressed pity and sympathy.
Natasha was in bed, the count at the club, and Pierre, after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya Dmitrievna who was interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken the news.
Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected to find her.
Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think she had meant.
I am not worth it! exclaimed Natasha and turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.
For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.
Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter from his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness and the breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they explained by Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas to retire from the army and return home.
On receiving this letter, Nicholas did not even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to retire from the army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry Natasha was ill and her engagement broken off, and that he would do all he could to meet their wishes.
Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for her parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the background.
Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked much in French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and prescribed a great variety of medicines for all the diseases known to them, but the simple idea never occurred to any of them that they could not know the disease Natasha was suffering from, as no disease suffered by a live man can be known, for every living person has his own peculiarities and always has his own peculiar, personal, novel, complicated disease, unknown to medicine--not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so on mentioned in medical books, but a disease consisting of one of the innumerable combinations of the maladies of those organs.
The doctors were of use to Natasha because they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her that it would soon pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in the Arbat and got a powder and some pills in a pretty box for a ruble and seventy kopeks, and if she took those powders in boiled water at intervals of precisely two hours, neither more nor less.
Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so many sacrifices were being made for her sake, and to know that she had to take medicine at certain hours, though she declared that no medicine would cure her and that it was all nonsense.
The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept little, coughed, and was always low-spirited.
Natasha's grief began to be overlaid by the impressions of daily life, it ceased to press so painfully on her heart, it gradually faded into the past, and she began to recover physically.
Natasha was calmer but no happier.
Natasha unconsciously felt this delicacy and so found great pleasure in his society.
Sometimes Natasha noticed embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence, especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared that something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her.
After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would have asked on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment when she was so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of his feelings; and it seemed plain to her that those words, which had then so comforted her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words are spoken to comfort a crying child.
She suggested that Natasha should fast and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the idea.
On her way home at an early hour when she met no one but bricklayers going to work or men sweeping the street, and everybody within the houses was still asleep, Natasha experienced a feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of correcting her faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of happiness.
As Natasha, at her mother's side, passed through the crowd behind a liveried footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a young man speaking about her in too loud a whisper.
With a sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she found herself in a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked- -as women can walk--with the more repose and stateliness the greater the pain and shame in her soul.
Take me, take me! prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from herself, from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins.
Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual order Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, the one he knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it before the doors of the sanctuary screen.
In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her strongly.
From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with Natasha's grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that seemed to be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was appearing on his own horizon--from that day the problem of the vanity and uselessness of all earthly things, that had incessantly tormented him, no longer presented itself.
But latterly, when more and more disquieting reports came from the seat of war and Natasha's health began to improve and she no longer aroused in him the former feeling of careful pity, an ever- increasing restlessness, which he could not explain, took possession of him.
His love for Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the comet, 666, L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to mature and culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere of Moscow habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to a great achievement and great happiness.
The first person he saw in the house was Natasha.
Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips and resembled Natasha.
Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face and sat down looking silently at Pierre.
Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father and now at Pierre.
Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on the count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to her father.
Natasha's unwontedly brilliant eyes, continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had reduced him to this condition.
Why are you upset? asked Natasha, and she looked challengingly into Pierre's eyes.
Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped.
Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her first suitor.
He smiled at the recollection of that time and of his love for Natasha, and passed at once to what now interested him passionately and exclusively.
Natasha with animated and excited face was telling him how she had gone to look for mushrooms the previous summer and had lost her way in the big forest.
The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of her husband irritated her.
Though she concealed from him her intention of keeping him under her wing, Petya guessed her designs, and instinctively fearing that he might give way to emotion when with her--might "become womanish" as he termed it to himself--he treated her coldly, avoided her, and during his stay in Moscow attached himself exclusively to Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly brotherly tenderness, almost lover-like.
The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always running away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent all his time.
Natasha got up and looked out of the window.
Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and holding an end of it in each hand, went out into the street.
Natasha moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying.
Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded officer and at once went to meet the major.
Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some reflection-- as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied in the affirmative.
With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back quickly to Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the officer.
He says they may! whispered Natasha.
Natasha was evidently pleased to be dealing with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life.
Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the half-open door into the sitting room, where there was a smell of vinegar and Hoffman's drops.
Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly.
When Natasha set to work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost full up with crockery, the other with carpets.
And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates wrapped in paper.
And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out the things.
But Natasha would not give in.
The count was not angry even when they told him that Natasha had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came to her to ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it might be corded up.
Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went on expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most valuable packed as compactly as possible.
Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing.
Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered.
From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into the drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of Natasha and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health.
Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that confused him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer to some question.
Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it difficult to reach some decision, first followed him and then ran downstairs.
The count, pipe in hand, was pacing up and down the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by anger, burst in like a tempest and approached her mother with rapid steps.
May I?... asked Natasha.
The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at which she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to the anteroom and downstairs into the yard.
Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement such as she had not known for a long time.
You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya? cried Natasha.
Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was quite different from Natasha's.
Natasha was not in the room.
They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she heard this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked.
What's the matter? asked Natasha, as with animated face she ran into the room.
Sonya embraced Natasha and kissed her.
Natasha looked at her inquiringly.
What is it? persisted Natasha with her quick intuition.
Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting in the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly receding walls of forsaken, agitated Moscow.
Really," said Natasha, "look, look!"