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- Стр. 1142/1273
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The
countess
pressed
her
daughter
's
hand
,
closed
her
eyes
,
and
became
quiet
for
a
moment
.
Suddenly
she
sat
up
with
unaccustomed
swiftness
,
glanced
vacantly
around
her
,
and
seeing
Natásha
began
to
press
her
daughter
's
head
with
all
her
strength
.
Then
she
turned
toward
her
daughter
's
face
which
was
wincing
with
pain
and
gazed
long
at
it
.
"
Natásha
,
you
love
me
?
"
she
said
in
a
soft
trustful
whisper
.
"
Natásha
,
you
would
not
deceive
me
?
You
'll
tell
me
the
whole
truth
?
"
Natásha
looked
at
her
with
eyes
full
of
tears
and
in
her
look
there
was
nothing
but
love
and
an
entreaty
for
forgiveness
.
"
My
darling
Mummy
!
"
she
repeated
,
straining
all
the
power
of
her
love
to
find
some
way
of
taking
on
herself
the
excess
of
grief
that
crushed
her
mother
.
And
again
in
a
futile
struggle
with
reality
her
mother
,
refusing
to
believe
that
she
could
live
when
her
beloved
boy
was
killed
in
the
bloom
of
life
,
escaped
from
reality
into
a
world
of
delirium
.
Natásha
did
not
remember
how
that
day
passed
nor
that
night
,
nor
the
next
day
and
night
.
She
did
not
sleep
and
did
not
leave
her
mother
.
Her
persevering
and
patient
love
seemed
completely
to
surround
the
countess
every
moment
,
not
explaining
or
consoling
,
but
recalling
her
to
life
.
During
the
third
night
the
countess
kept
very
quiet
for
a
few
minutes
,
and
Natásha
rested
her
head
on
the
arm
of
her
chair
and
closed
her
eyes
,
but
opened
them
again
on
hearing
the
bedstead
creak
.
The
countess
was
sitting
up
in
bed
and
speaking
softly
.
"
How
glad
I
am
you
have
come
.
You
are
tired
.
Wo
n't
you
have
some
tea
?
"
Natásha
went
up
to
her
"
You
have
improved
in
looks
and
grown
more
manly
,
"
continued
the
countess
,
taking
her
daughter
's
hand
.
"
Mamma
!
What
are
you
saying
...
"
