Chapter 13

           

           WhenNatásharanoutofthedrawingroomsheonlywentasfarastheconservatory.Thereshepausedandstoodlisteningtotheconversationinthedrawingroom,waitingforBorístocomeout.Shewasalreadygrowingimpatient,andstampedherfoot,readytocryathisnotcomingatonce,whensheheardtheyoungman’sdiscreetstepsapproachingneitherquicklynorslowly.AtthisNatáshadashedswiftlyamongtheflowertubsandhidthere.

           Boríspausedinthemiddleoftheroom,lookedround,brushedalittledustfromthesleeveofhisuniform,andgoinguptoamirrorexaminedhishandsomeface.Natásha,verystill,peeredoutfromherambush,waitingtoseewhathewoulddo.Hestoodalittlewhilebeforetheglass,smiled,andwalkedtowardtheotherdoor.Natáshawasabouttocallhimbutchangedhermind.“Lethimlookforme,”thoughtshe.HardlyhadBorísgonethanSónya,flushed,intears,andmutteringangrily,cameinattheotherdoor.Natáshacheckedherfirstimpulsetorunouttoher,andremainedinherhidingplace,watching—asunderaninvisiblecap—toseewhatwentonintheworld.Shewasexperiencinganewandpeculiarpleasure.Sónya,mutteringtoherself,keptlookingroundtowardthedrawingroomdoor.ItopenedandNicholascamein.

           “Sónya,whatisthematterwithyou?Howcanyou?”saidhe,runninguptoher.

           “It’snothing,nothing;leavemealone!”sobbedSónya.

           “Ah,Iknowwhatitis.

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