Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
Only the old countess with her maternal instinct had realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been due to her need of children and a husband as she herself had once exclaimed at Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest and her mother was now surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother.
When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round face. "Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a child and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost fell into it, covering his face with his hands. Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole being.
"You knew my daughter was going to run away?" repeated the old woman, fixing her keen eyes on Natasha's face, trying to raise herself from among the lace-fringed pillows. "I knew," the girl answered in a half whisper, lowering her eyes in confusion, and trying to throw off her first impression of terror. "Why did you not tell me before?" the old woman continued, even more fiercely.
A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is like a physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep wound may heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike can yet heal completely only as the result of a vital force from within. Natasha's wound healed in that way.
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.
The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, but she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his eyes and looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and again lazily smacked his lips. Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, handed him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door.
The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment up high on one uplifted hand. "Mavra, quicker, darling!" "Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..."
Speaking thickly and with a faraway look in his shining eyes, he told the whole story of his life: his marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, her betrayal of him, and all his own simple relations with her. Urged on by Ramballe's questions he also told what he had at first concealed his own position and even his name.
And everything annoyed her Denisov's shouting and laughter, Natasha's talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her. Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling irritated. Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything of what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the nursery.
Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice of Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words. "Is it possible to forget?" said she. "It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard and painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he really loved him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she added, suddenly blushing.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking