“I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now,” she said with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears choking her.

“What have I said and what have I done?” thought she, as soon as she was out of the room.

They waited a long time for Natásha to come to dinner that day. She sat in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. Sónya stood beside her, kissing her hair.

“Natásha, what is it about?” she asked. “What do they matter to you? It will all pass, Natásha.”

“But if you only knew how offensive it was⁠ ⁠… as if I⁠ ⁠…”

“Don’t talk about it, Natásha. It wasn’t your fault so why should you mind? Kiss me,” said Sónya.

Natásha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed her wet face against her.