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Chapter 13

           InherbehaviortohermotherNatáshaseemedrough,butshewassosensitiveandtactfulthathoweversheclaspedhermothershealwaysmanagedtodoitwithouthurtingherormakingherfeeluncomfortableordispleased.

           “Well,whatisittonight?”saidthemother,havingarrangedherpillowsandwaiteduntilNatásha,afterturningoveracoupleoftimes,hadsettleddownbesideherunderthequilt,spreadoutherarms,andassumedaseriousexpression.

           ThesevisitsofNatásha’satnightbeforethecountreturnedfromhisclubwereoneofthegreatestpleasuresofbothmother,anddaughter.

           “Whatisittonight?—ButIhavetotellyou...”

           Natáshaputherhandonhermother’smouth.

           “AboutBorís...Iknow,”shesaidseriously;“that’swhatIhavecomeabout.Don’tsayit—Iknow.No,dotellme!”andsheremovedherhand.“Tellme,Mamma!He’snice?”

           “Natásha,youaresixteen.AtyourageIwasmarried.YousayBorísisnice.Heisverynice,andIlovehimlikeason.Butwhatthen?...Whatareyouthinkingabout?Youhavequiteturnedhishead,Icanseethat....”

           Asshesaidthisthecountesslookedroundatherdaughter.Natáshawaslyinglookingsteadilystraightbeforeheratoneofthemahoganysphinxescarvedonthecornersofthebedstead,sothatthecountessonlysawherdaughter’sfaceinprofile.Thatfacestruckherbyitspeculiarlyseriousandconcentratedexpression.

           Natáshawaslisteningandconsidering.

           “Well,whatthen?”saidshe.

           “Youhavequiteturnedhishead,andwhy?Whatdoyouwantofhim?Youknowyoucan’tmarryhim.

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