“What is this?” thought Nikoláy, listening to her with widely opened eyes. “What has happened to her? How she is singing today!” And suddenly the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the next note, the next phrase, and everything in the world was divided into three beats: “ Oh mio crudele affetto. ”⁠ ⁠… One, two, three⁠ ⁠… one, two, three⁠ ⁠… One⁠ ⁠… “ Oh mio crudele affetto. ”⁠ ⁠… One, two, three⁠ ⁠… One. “Oh, this senseless life of ours!” thought Nikoláy. “All this misery, and money, and Dólokhov, and anger, and honor⁠—it’s all nonsense⁠ ⁠… but this is real.⁠ ⁠… Now then, Natásha, now then, dearest! Now then, darling! How will she take that si ? She’s taken it! Thank God!” And without noticing that he was singing, to strengthen the si he sung a second, a third below the high note. “Ah, God! How fine! Did I really take it? How fortunate!” he thought.