countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her husband.
“My dear, you order what is right. … You know I don’t understand about it,” said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly.
“The eggs … the eggs are teaching the hen,” muttered the count through tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide her look of shame on his breast.
“Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I? …” asked Natásha. “We will still take all the most necessary things.”
The count nodded affirmatively, and Natásha, at the rapid pace at which she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to the anteroom and downstairs into the yard.
The servants gathered round Natásha, but could not believe the strange order she brought them until the count himself, in his wife’s name, confirmed the order