as if expecting some invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from herself, from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and
The countess looked round several times at her daughter’s softened face and shining eyes and prayed God to help her.
Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual order Natásha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, the one he knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it before the doors of the sanctuary screen.
The priest came out with his purple velvet biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down with an effort. Everybody followed his example and they looked at one another in surprise.
Then came the prayer just received from the Synod—a prayer for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion.
“Lord God of might, God of our salvation!” began the priest