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Chapter 13

           “You’renotasleep?”Natáshajumpedup,snatchedupherslippers,andranbarefoottoherownroom.

           Itwasalongtimebeforeshecouldsleep.Shekeptthinkingthatnoonecouldunderstandallthatsheunderstoodandalltherewasinher.

           “Sónya?”shethought,glancingatthatcurled-up,sleepinglittlekittenwithherenormousplaitofhair.“No,howcouldshe?She’svirtuous.ShefellinlovewithNicholasanddoesnotwishtoknowanythingmore.EvenMammadoesnotunderstand.ItiswonderfulhowcleverIamandhow...charmingsheis,”shewenton,speakingofherselfinthethirdperson,andimaginingitwassomeverywiseman—thewisestandbestofmen—whowassayingitofher.“Thereiseverything,everythinginher,”continuedthisman.“Sheisunusuallyintelligent,charming...andthensheispretty,uncommonlypretty,andagile—sheswimsandridessplendidly...andhervoice!Onecanreallysayit’sawonderfulvoice!”

           ShehummedascrapfromherfavoriteoperabyCherubini,threwherselfonherbed,laughedatthepleasantthoughtthatshewouldimmediatelyfallasleep,calledDunyáshathemaidtoputoutthecandle,andbeforeDunyáshahadlefttheroomhadalreadypassedintoyetanotherhappierworldofdreams,whereeverythingwasaslightandbeautifulasinreality,andevenmoresobecauseitwasdifferent.

           NextdaythecountesscalledBorísasideandhadatalkwithhim,afterwhichheceasedcomingtotheRostóvs’.

           

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