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Natásha
,
after
she
had
pulled
him
down
toward
her
and
covered
his
face
with
kisses
,
holding
him
tight
by
the
skirt
of
his
coat
,
sprang
away
and
pranced
up
and
down
in
one
place
like
a
goat
and
shrieked
piercingly
.
All
around
were
loving
eyes
glistening
with
tears
of
joy
,
and
all
around
were
lips
seeking
a
kiss
.
Sónya
too
,
all
rosy
red
,
clung
to
his
arm
and
,
radiant
with
bliss
,
looked
eagerly
toward
his
eyes
,
waiting
for
the
look
for
which
she
longed
.
Sónya
now
was
sixteen
and
she
was
very
pretty
,
especially
at
this
moment
of
happy
,
rapturous
excitement
.
She
gazed
at
him
,
not
taking
her
eyes
off
him
,
and
smiling
and
holding
her
breath
.
He
gave
her
a
grateful
look
,
but
was
still
expectant
and
looking
for
someone
.
The
old
countess
had
not
yet
come
.
But
now
steps
were
heard
at
the
door
,
steps
so
rapid
that
they
could
hardly
be
his
mother
's
.
Yet
it
was
she
,
dressed
in
a
new
gown
which
he
did
not
know
,
made
since
he
had
left
.
All
the
others
let
him
go
,
and
he
ran
to
her
.
When
they
met
,
she
fell
on
his
breast
,
sobbing
.
She
could
not
lift
her
face
,
but
only
pressed
it
to
the
cold
braiding
of
his
hussar
's
jacket
.
Denísov
,
who
had
come
into
the
room
unnoticed
by
anyone
,
stood
there
and
wiped
his
eyes
at
the
sight
.
"
Vasíli
Denísov
,
your
son
's
friend
,
"
he
said
,
introducing
himself
to
the
count
,
who
was
looking
inquiringly
at
him
.
"
You
are
most
welcome
!
I
know
,
I
know
,
"
said
the
count
,
kissing
and
embracing
Denísov
.
"
Nicholas
wrote
us
...
Natásha
,
Véra
,
look
!
Here
is
Denísov
!
"
The
same
happy
,
rapturous
faces
turned
to
the
shaggy
figure
of
Denísov
.
"
Darling
Denísov
!
"
screamed
Natásha
,
beside
herself
with
rapture
,
springing
to
him
,
putting
her
arms
round
him
,
and
kissing
him
.
This
escapade
made
everybody
feel
confused
.
Denísov
blushed
too
,
but
smiled
and
,
taking
Natásha
's
hand
,
kissed
it
.
Denísov
was
shown
to
the
room
prepared
for
him
,
and
the
Rostóvs
all
gathered
round
Nicholas
in
the
sitting
room
.
