Princess Márya—reluctantly as is usual in such cases—began telling of the condition in which she had found Prince Andréy. But Pierre’s face quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager restless expression, gradually compelled her to go into details which she feared to recall for her own sake.
“Yes, yes, and so … ?” Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her with his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. “Yes, yes … so he grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always sought one thing—to be perfectly good—so he could not be afraid of death. The faults he had—if he had any—were not of his making. So he did soften? … What a happy thing that he saw you again,” he added, suddenly turning to Natásha and looking at her with eyes full of tears.
Natásha’s face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a moment. She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not.
“Yes, that was happiness,” she then said in her quiet voice with its deep chest notes. “For me it certainly was happiness.” She paused. “And he … he … he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I entered the room. …”
Natásha’s voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted her head and began to speak rapidly.
“We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare to ask about him. Then suddenly Sónya told me he was traveling with us. I had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I wanted was to see him and be with him,” she said, trembling, and breathing quickly.