of what awaits …”
Natásha without waiting for Princess Márya to finish again looked inquiringly at Pierre.
“And because,” Pierre continued, “only one who believes that there is a God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and … yours.”
Natásha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly stopped. Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed Princess Márya, asking about his friend’s last days.
Pierre’s confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time he felt that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that there was now a judge of his every word and action whose judgment mattered more to him than that of all the rest of the world.
As he spoke now he was considering what impression his words would make on Natásha. He did not purposely say things to please her, but whatever he was saying he regarded from her standpoint.
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