“Oh, how delightful it is!” she kept saying, running up to Sónya.

Nikoláy and Denísov were walking up and down, looking with kindly patronage at the dancers.

“How sweet she is⁠—she will be a weal beauty!” said Denísov.

“Who?”

“Countess Natásha,” answered Denísov.

“And how she dances! What gwace!” he said again after a pause.

“Who are you talking about?”

“About your sister,” ejaculated Denísov testily.

Rostóv smiled.