BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
31. CHAPTER XXXI
The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that
Moscow was burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to
look. Sonya and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out
with him. Only Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya
was no longer with the family, he had gone on with his regiment
which was making for Troitsa.
The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry.
Natasha, pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the
icons just where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to
her father's words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of
the adjutant, three houses off.
"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and
frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful
glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to
her cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind.
But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to
her and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had
been in this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the
surprise and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable
reason found it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and
of his being with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry
with anyone as she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be
forgiven and now, as if trying to atone for her fault, paid
unceasing attention to her cousin.
"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she.
"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow."
And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she
turned her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was
evident that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her
former attitude.
"But you didn't see it!"
"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be
left in peace.
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