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Chapter 11

           

           “It’sallnonsense,allrubbish—thosediscussionswhichleadtonothingandallthoseidioticsocieties!”Natáshadeclaredoftheveryaffairsintheimmenseimportanceofwhichshefirmlybelieved.

           AndshewouldgotothenurserytonursePétya,heronlyboy.Nooneelsecouldtellheranythingsocomfortingorsoreasonableasthislittlethree-month-oldcreaturewhenhelayatherbreastandshewasconsciousofthemovementofhislipsandthesnufflingofhislittlenose.Thatcreaturesaid:“Youareangry,youarejealous,youwouldliketopayhimout,youareafraid—buthereamI!AndIamhe...”andthatwasunanswerable.Itwasmorethantrue.

           DuringthatfortnightofanxietyNatásharesortedtothebabyforcomfortsooften,andfussedoverhimsomuch,thatsheoverfedhimandhefellill.Shewasterrifiedbyhisillness,andyetthatwasjustwhatsheneeded.Whileattendingtohimsheboretheanxietyaboutherhusbandmoreeasily.

           ShewasnursingherboywhenthesoundofPierre’ssleighwasheardatthefrontdoor,andtheoldnurse—knowinghowtopleasehermistress—enteredtheroominaudiblybuthurriedlyandwithabeamingface.

           “Hashecome?”Natáshaaskedquicklyinawhisper,afraidtomovelestsheshouldrousethedozingbaby.

           “He’scome,ma’am,”whisperedthenurse.

           ThebloodrushedtoNatásha’sfaceandherfeetinvoluntarilymoved,butshecouldnotjumpupandrunout.Thebabyagainopenedhiseyesandlookedather.“You’rehere?”heseemedtobesaying,andagainlazilysmackedhislips.

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