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Chapter 25

           Sheputdownthegeometrybookandeagerlybrokethesealofherletter.Itwasfromhermostintimatefriendfromchildhood;thatsameJulieKaráginawhohadbeenattheRostóvs’name-dayparty.

           JuliewroteinFrench:

           DearandpreciousFriend,Howterribleandfrightfulathingisseparation!ThoughItellmyselfthathalfmylifeandhalfmyhappinessarewrappedupinyou,andthatinspiteofthedistanceseparatingusourheartsareunitedbyindissolublebonds,myheartrebelsagainstfateandinspiteofthepleasuresanddistractionsaroundmeIcannotovercomeacertainsecretsorrowthathasbeeninmyhearteversinceweparted.Whyarewenottogetheraswewerelastsummer,inyourbigstudy,onthebluesofa,theconfidentialsofa?WhycannotInow,asthreemonthsago,drawfreshmoralstrengthfromyourlook,sogentle,calm,andpenetrating,alookIlovedsowellandseemtoseebeforemeasIwrite?

           Havingreadthusfar,PrincessMarysighedandglancedintothemirrorwhichstoodonherright.Itreflectedaweak,ungracefulfigureandthinface.Hereyes,alwayssad,nowlookedwithparticularhopelessnessatherreflectionintheglass.“Sheflattersme,”thoughttheprincess,turningawayandcontinuingtoread.ButJuliedidnotflatterherfriend,theprincess’eyes—large,deepandluminous(itseemedasifattimesthereradiatedfromthemshaftsofwarmlight)—weresobeautifulthatveryofteninspiteoftheplainnessofherfacetheygaveheranattractionmorepowerfulthanthatofbeauty.

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