“Yes,” returned Nikoláy. “You’re not cold?”

“No. I’m quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!” answered Natásha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but only heard them splashing through the unseen mud.

What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly caught and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did they all find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were nearing home she suddenly struck up the air of “As ’twas growing dark last night”⁠—the tune of which she had all the way been trying to get and had at last caught.

“Got it?” said Nikoláy.

“What were you thinking about just now, Nikoláy?” inquired Natásha.

They were fond of asking one another that question.