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Chapter 12

           Justasshehadputonabodicewithoutsleevesandonlytackedtogether,andwasturningherheadtoseeintheglasshowthebackfitted,sheheardinthedrawingroomtheanimatedsoundsofherfather’svoiceandanother’s—awoman’s—thatmadeherflush.ItwasHélène.NatáshahadnottimetotakeoffthebodicebeforethedooropenedandCountessBezúkhova,dressedinapurplevelvetgownwithahighcollar,cameintotheroombeamingwithgood-humoredamiablesmiles.

           “Oh,myenchantress!”shecriedtotheblushingNatásha.“Charming!No,thisisreallybeyondanything,mydearcount,”saidshetoCountRostóvwhohadfollowedherin.“HowcanyouliveinMoscowandgonowhere?No,Iwon’tletyouoff!MademoiselleGeorgewillreciteatmyhousetonightandthere’llbesomepeople,andifyoudon’tbringyourlovelygirls—whoareprettierthanMademoiselleGeorge—Iwon’tknowyou!MyhusbandisawayinTverorIwouldsendhimtofetchyou.Youmustcome.Youpositivelymust!Betweeneightandnine.”

           Shenoddedtothedressmaker,whomsheknewandwhohadcurtsiedrespectfullytoher,andseatedherselfinanarmchairbesidethelookingglass,drapingthefoldsofhervelvetdresspicturesquely.Shedidnotceasechatteringgood-naturedlyandgaily,continuallypraisingNatásha’sbeauty.ShelookedatNatásha’sdressesandpraisedthem,aswellasanewdressofherownmadeof“metallicgauze,”whichshehadreceivedfromParis,andadvisedNatáshatohaveonelikeit.

           “Butanythingsuitsyou,mycharmer!”sheremarked.

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