BOOK TWELVE: 1812
14. CHAPTER XIV
(continued)
Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She
turned away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to
him, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard
at the door. The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in,
almost running- that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their
meeting in Moscow long since.
But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she
realized that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a
friend. She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her
shoulder.
As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed,
heard of Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and
hastened to her with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to
Princess Mary.
There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into
the drawing room- that of love- boundless love for him, for her, and
for all that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for
others, and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping
them. It was plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no
thought of herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew.
Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at
the first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with
sorrowful pleasure.
"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the
other room.
Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to
Natasha. She felt that from her she would be able to understand and
learn everything.
"How..." she began her question but stopped short.
She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words.
Natasha's face eyes would eyes would have to tell her all more clearly
and profoundly.
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