Війна і мир

Chapter 11

           

           Thisblack-eyed,wide-mouthedgirl,notprettybutfulloflife—withchildishbareshoulderswhichafterherrunheavedandshookherbodice,withblackcurlstossedbackward,thinbarearms,littlelegsinlace-frilleddrawers,andfeetinlowslippers—wasjustatthatcharmingagewhenagirlisnolongerachild,thoughthechildisnotyetayoungwoman.Escapingfromherfathersherantohideherflushedfaceinthelaceofhermother’smantilla—notpayingtheleastattentiontohersevereremark—andbegantolaugh.Shelaughed,andinfragmentarysentencestriedtoexplainaboutadollwhichsheproducedfromthefoldsofherfrock.

           “Doyousee?...Mydoll...Mimi...Yousee...”wasallNatáshamanagedtoutter(tohereverythingseemedfunny).Sheleanedagainsthermotherandburstintosuchaloud,ringingfitoflaughterthateventheprimvisitorcouldnothelpjoiningin.

           “Nowthen,goawayandtakeyourmonstrositywithyou,”saidthemother,pushingawayherdaughterwithpretendedsternness,andturningtothevisitorsheadded:“Sheismyyoungestgirl.”

           Natásha,raisingherfaceforamomentfromhermother’smantilla,glancedupatherthroughtearsoflaughter,andagainhidherface.

           Thevisitor,compelledtolookonatthisfamilyscene,thoughtitnecessarytotakesomepartinit.

           “Tellme,mydear,”saidshetoNatásha,“isMimiarelationofyours?Adaughter,Isuppose?”

           Natáshadidnotlikethevisitor’stoneofcondescensiontochildishthings.Shedidnotreply,butlookedatherseriously.

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