BOOK TWELVE: 1812
15. CHAPTER XV
(continued)
Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and
knew nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining
knowledge, observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the
faculties he afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or
more profound understanding of the meaning of the scene he had
witnessed between his father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then.
He understood it completely, and, leaving the room without crying,
went silently up to Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly
at her with his beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy
upper lip trembled and leaning his head against her he began to cry.
After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him
and either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha
of whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them
quietly and shyly.
When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood
what Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to
Natasha of hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside
his sofa, and did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in
soul to that Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the
dying man was now so evident.
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