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"
But
what
do
you
think
,
Daniel
Teréntich
?
Does
n't
it
look
as
if
that
glow
were
in
Moscow
?
"
remarked
one
of
the
footmen
.
Daniel
Teréntich
made
no
reply
,
and
again
for
a
long
time
they
were
all
silent
.
The
glow
spread
,
rising
and
falling
,
farther
and
farther
still
.
"
God
have
mercy
...
It
's
windy
and
dry
...
"
said
another
voice
.
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"
Just
look
!
See
what
it
's
doing
now
.
O
Lord
!
You
can
even
see
the
crows
flying
Lord
have
mercy
on
us
sinners
!
"
"
They
'll
put
it
out
,
no
fear
!
"
"
Who
's
to
put
it
out
?
"
Daniel
Teréntich
,
who
had
hitherto
been
silent
,
was
heard
to
say
.
His
voice
was
calm
and
deliberate
.
"
Moscow
it
is
,
brothers
,
"
said
he
.
"
Mother
Moscow
,
the
white
...
"
his
voice
faltered
,
and
he
gave
way
to
an
old
man
's
sob
.
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And
it
was
as
if
they
had
all
only
waited
for
this
to
realize
the
significance
for
them
of
the
glow
they
were
watching
.
Sighs
were
heard
,
words
of
prayer
,
and
the
sobbing
of
the
count
's
old
valet
.
The
valet
,
returning
to
the
cottage
,
informed
the
count
that
Moscow
was
burning
.
The
count
donned
his
dressing
gown
and
went
out
to
look
.
Sónya
and
Madame
Schoss
,
who
had
not
yet
undressed
,
went
out
with
him
.
Only
Natásha
and
the
countess
remained
in
the
room
.
Pétya
was
no
longer
with
the
family
,
he
had
gone
on
with
his
regiment
which
was
making
for
Tróitsa
.
The
countess
,
on
hearing
that
Moscow
was
on
fire
,
began
to
cry
.
Natásha
,
pale
,
with
a
fixed
look
,
was
sitting
on
the
bench
under
the
icons
just
where
she
had
sat
down
on
arriving
and
paid
no
attention
to
her
father
's
words
.
She
was
listening
to
the
ceaseless
moaning
of
the
adjutant
,
three
houses
off
.