After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of unsatisfied expectation⁠—the feeling that “everything is just the same, so why did I hurry?”⁠—Nikoláy began to settle down in his old home world. His father and mother were much the same, only a little older. What was new in them was a certain uneasiness and occasional discord, which there used not to be, and which, as Nikoláy soon found out, was due to the bad state of their affairs. Sónya was nearly twenty; she had stopped growing prettier and promised nothing more than she was already, but that was enough. She exhaled happiness and love from the time Nikoláy returned, and the faithful, unalterable love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him. Pétya and Natásha surprised Nikoláy most. Pétya was a big handsome boy of thirteen, merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was already breaking. As for Natásha, for a long while Nikoláy wondered and laughed whenever he looked at her.

“You’re not the same at all,” he said.

“How? Am I uglier?”