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She
trembled
all
over
and
sat
down
on
a
chair
.
A
sense
of
pity
he
had
never
before
known
overflowed
Pierre
's
heart
.
"
I
will
tell
him
,
I
will
tell
him
everything
once
more
,
"
said
Pierre
.
"
But
...
I
should
like
to
know
one
thing
...
"
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"
Know
what
?
"
Natásha
's
eyes
asked
.
"
I
should
like
to
know
,
did
you
love
...
"
Pierre
did
not
know
how
to
refer
to
Anatole
and
flushed
at
the
thought
of
him
--
"
did
you
love
that
bad
man
?
"
"
Do
n't
call
him
bad
!
"
said
Natásha
.
"
But
I
do
n't
know
,
do
n't
know
at
all
...
"
She
began
to
cry
and
a
still
greater
sense
of
pity
,
tenderness
,
and
love
welled
up
in
Pierre
.
He
felt
the
tears
trickle
under
his
spectacles
and
hoped
they
would
not
be
noticed
.
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"
We
wo
n't
speak
of
it
any
more
,
my
dear
,
"
said
Pierre
,
and
his
gentle
,
cordial
tone
suddenly
seemed
very
strange
to
Natásha
.
"
We
wo
n't
speak
of
it
,
my
dear
--
I
'll
tell
him
everything
;
but
one
thing
I
beg
of
you
,
consider
me
your
friend
and
if
you
want
help
,
advice
,
or
simply
to
open
your
heart
to
someone
--
not
now
,
but
when
your
mind
is
clearer
--
think
of
me
!
"
He
took
her
hand
and
kissed
it
.
"
I
shall
be
happy
if
it
's
in
my
power
...
"
Pierre
grew
confused
.