Chapter 15

           

           Tosay“tomorrow”andkeepupadignifiedtonewasnotdifficult,buttogohomealone,seehissisters,brother,mother,andfather,confessandaskformoneyhehadnorighttoaftergivinghiswordofhonor,wasterrible.

           Athome,theyhadnotyetgonetobed.Theyoungpeople,afterreturningfromthetheater,hadhadsupperandweregroupedroundtheclavichord.AssoonasNicholasentered,hewasenfoldedinthatpoeticatmosphereoflovewhichpervadedtheRostóvhouseholdthatwinterand,nowafterDólokhov’sproposalandIogel’sball,seemedtohavegrownthickerroundSónyaandNatáshaastheairdoesbeforeathunderstorm.SónyaandNatásha,inthelight-bluedressestheyhadwornatthetheater,lookingprettyandconsciousofit,werestandingbytheclavichord,happyandsmiling.VérawasplayingchesswithShinshíninthedrawingroom.Theoldcountess,waitingforthereturnofherhusbandandson,satplayingpatiencewiththeoldgentlewomanwholivedintheirhouse.Denísov,withsparklingeyesandruffledhair,satattheclavichordstrikingchordswithhisshortfingers,hislegsthrownbackandhiseyesrollingashesang,withhissmall,husky,buttruevoice,someversescalled“Enchantress,”whichhehadcomposed,andtowhichhewastryingtofitmusic:

           Enchantress,say,tomyforsakenlyre

           Whatmagicpoweristhisrecallsmestill?

           Whatsparkhassetmyinmostsoulonfire,

           Whatisthisblissthatmakesmyfingersthrill?

           Hewassinginginpassionatetones,gazingwithhissparklingblack-agateeyesatthefrightenedandhappyNatásha.

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