BOOK ONE: 1805
11. CHAPTER XI
(continued)
"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha
managed to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned
against her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter
that even the prim visitor could not help joining in.
"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the
mother, pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and
turning to the visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl."
Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla,
glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face.
The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it
necessary to take some part in it.
"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of
yours? A daughter, I suppose?"
Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish
things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously.
Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna
Mikhaylovna's son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest
son; Sonya, the count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya,
his youngest boy, had all settled down in the drawing room and were
obviously trying to restrain within the bounds of decorum the
excitement and mirth that shone in all their faces. Evidently in the
back rooms, from which they had dashed out so impetuously, the
conversation had been more amusing than the drawing-room talk of
society scandals, the weather, and Countess Apraksina. Now and then
they glanced at one another, hardly able to suppress their laughter.
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