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"
Do
n't
speak
to
me
like
that
.
I
am
not
worth
it
!
"
exclaimed
Natásha
and
turned
to
leave
the
room
,
but
Pierre
held
her
hand
.
He
knew
he
had
something
more
to
say
to
her
.
But
when
he
said
it
he
was
amazed
at
his
own
words
.
"
Stop
,
stop
!
You
have
your
whole
life
before
you
,
"
said
he
to
her
.
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"
Before
me
?
No
!
All
is
over
for
me
,
"
she
replied
with
shame
and
self-abasement
.
"
All
over
?
"
he
repeated
.
"
If
I
were
not
myself
,
but
the
handsomest
,
cleverest
,
and
best
man
in
the
world
,
and
were
free
,
I
would
this
moment
ask
on
my
knees
for
your
hand
and
your
love
!
"
For
the
first
time
for
many
days
Natásha
wept
tears
of
gratitude
and
tenderness
,
and
glancing
at
Pierre
she
went
out
of
the
room
.
Pierre
too
when
she
had
gone
almost
ran
into
the
anteroom
,
restraining
tears
of
tenderness
and
joy
that
choked
him
,
and
without
finding
the
sleeves
of
his
fur
cloak
threw
it
on
and
got
into
his
sleigh
.
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"
Where
to
now
,
your
excellency
?
"
asked
the
coachman
.
"
Where
to
?
"
Pierre
asked
himself
.
"
Where
can
I
go
now
?
Surely
not
to
the
Club
or
to
pay
calls
?
"
All
men
seemed
so
pitiful
,
so
poor
,
in
comparison
with
this
feeling
of
tenderness
and
love
he
experienced
:
in
comparison
with
that
softened
,
grateful
,
last
look
she
had
given
him
through
her
tears
"
Home
!
"
said
Pierre
,
and
despite
twenty-two
degrees
of
frost
Fahrenheit
he
threw
open
the
bearskin
cloak
from
his
broad
chest
and
inhaled
the
air
with
joy
.