he understand anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to understand, not because he lacked the power to do so but because he understood something else—something the living did not and could not understand—and which wholly occupied his mind.
“There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together,” said he, breaking the silence and pointing to Natásha. “She looks after me all the time.”
Princess Márya heard him and did not understand how he could say such a thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andréy, how could he say that, before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to live he could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. If he had not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to pity her and how could he speak like that