tried to replace Natásha but could not. They saw that she alone was able to restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks Natásha remained constantly at her mother’s side, sleeping on a lounge chair in her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her incessantly because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones soothed her mother.
The mother’s wounded spirit could not heal. Pétya’s death had torn from her half her life. When the news of Pétya’s death had come she had been a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a month later she left her room a listless old woman taking no interest in life.
But the same blow that almost killed the countess, this second blow, restored Natásha to life.
A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is like a