“If you knew how sorry I am for them, Pierre,” she said, with sincere, calm, humble sadness. “So sorry, so sorry. A whole life before them. Oh, how much they will suffer yet!”
“Well, we must hope that they will be more fortunate than we.”
“God grant it, God grant it! It is hard to live, Pierre! Take this one advice from me, my dear: don’t philosophize! What a stupid you are, Pierre, oh, what a stupid! But I must attend to matters. I have invited a lot of people, but how am I going to feed them?” She flared up, turned away, and rang the bell.
“Call Tarás!”
“Is the old man still with you?”
“Yes; why, he is a boy in comparison with me.”
Tarás was angry and clean, but he undertook to get everything done.
Soon Natálya Nikoláevna and Sónya, agleam with cold and happiness, and rustling in their dresses, entered the room; Serézha was still out, attending to some purchases.
“Let me get a good look at her!”
Márya Ivánovna took her face. Natálya Nikoláevna began to tell something.