; Natasha gave him her hand and retired. Princess Marya, on the con- lary, instead of going away, sank into an armchair, and with her lumi- |)us, deep eyes looked sternly and intently at Pierre. The weariness she ad unmistakably betrayed just before had now quite passed off. She : - ew a deep, prolonged sigh, as though preparing for a long conversation. I As soon as Natasha had gone, all Pierre’s confusion and awkwardness stantly vanished, and were replaced by excited eagerness.
He rapidly moved a chair close up to Princess Marya. ‘Yes, I wanted 1 tell you,’ he said, replying to her look as though to words. ‘Princess, felp me. What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, my dear friend, listen j me. I know all about it. I know I am not worthy of her; I know that it
[ impossible to talk of it now. But I want to be a brother to her. No, it that, I don’t, I can’t . . .’ He paused and passed his hands over his ce and eyes. ‘It’s like this,’ he went on, making an evident effort to eak coherently. ‘I don’t know since when I have loved her. But I have ved her alone, only her, all my life, and I love her so that I cannot nagine life without her. I cannot bring myself to ask for her hand now; jt the thought that, perhaps, she might be my wife and my letting lip this opportunity . . . opportunity ... is awful. Tell me, can I ppe? Tell me, what am I to do? Dear princess,’ he said, after a brief jiuse, touching her hand as she did not answer.
‘I am thinking of what you have just told me,’ answered Princess Marya. "his is what I think. You are right that to speak to her of love now . . .’ he princess paused. She had meant to say that to speak to her of love m was impossible; but she stopped, because she had seen during the 1 st three days by the sudden change in Natasha that she would by no eans be offended if Pierre were to avow his love, that, in fact, it was the he thing she desired.
‘To speak to her now ... is out of the question,’ she nevertheless
iid.
‘But what am I to do?’
‘Trust the matter to me,’ said Princess Marya. ‘I know . .
Pierre looked into her eyes.
‘Well, well . . he said.
‘I know that she loves . . . that she will love you,’ Princess Mary corrected herself.
She had hardly uttered the words, when Pierre leaped up, and with face of consternation clutched at Princess Marya’s hand.
‘What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You thin so? . . .’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Princess Marya, smiling. ‘Write to her parents And leave it to me. I will tell her when it is possible. I desire it to com to pass. And I have a feeling in my heart that it will be so.’
‘No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it cannot be! ... Ho^ happy I am! No, it cannot be!’ Pierre kept saying, kissing Princes Marya’s hands.
‘You should go to Petersburg; it will be better. And I will write to you she said.
‘To Petersburg? I am to go? Yes, very well, I will go. But I can com and see you to-morrow?’
Next day Pierre came to say good-bye. Natasha was less animated tha on the preceding days; but sometimes that day, looking into her eyes Pierre felt that he was vanishing away, that he and she were no more that there was nothing but happiness. ‘Is it possible? No, it cannot be he said to himself at every glance she gave, every gesture, every wore that filled his soul with gladness.
When, on saying good-bye, he took her thin, delicate hand he uncon sciously held it somewhat longer in his own.
‘Is it possible that that hand, that face, those eyes, all that treasur of womanly charm, so far removed from me, is it possible it may all on! day be my own for ever, as close and intimate as I am to myself? No, it' surely impossible? . . .’
‘Good-bye, count,’ she said to him aloud. ‘I shall so look forward t seeing you again,’ she added in a whisper.
And those simple words, and the look in the eyes and the face, tha accompanied them, formed the subject of inexhaustible reminiscences! interpretations, and happy dreams for Pierre during two whole month; ‘I shall look forward to seeing you again.’ ‘Yes, yes, how did she say it Yes. “I shall so look forward to seeing you again.” Oh, how happy I am How can it be that I am so happy! ’ Pierre said to himself.
XIX
There was nothing in Pierre’s soul now like what had passed with! him in similar circumstances during the time of his being betrothed t Ellen.
He did not go over, as he had then, with a sickening sense of shame thi
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