nothing had done so. As a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life, though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would be completely upset.
During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole Rostóv family was absorbed in various activities.
The head of the family, Count Ilyá Andréevich, continually drove about the city collecting the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty orders at home about the preparations for their departure.
The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Pétya who was always running away from her, and was jealous of Natásha with whom he spent all his time.
Sónya alone directed the practical side of matters by getting things packed. But of late Sónya had been particularly sad and silent. Nicolas’ letter in which he mentioned Princess Márya had elicited, in her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who saw an intervention of Providence in this meeting of the princess and Nicolas.
“I was never pleased at Bolkónski’s engagement to Natásha,” said the countess, “but I always wanted Nikólenka to marry the princess, and had a presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!”
Sónya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of retrieving the Rostóvs’ affairs was by Nikoláy marrying a rich woman, and that the princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. But despite her grief, or perhaps