on the baby’s broad face with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since over and there was bright, joyous sunshine on Natásha’s face as she gazed tenderly at her husband and child.
“And have you talked everything well over with Prince Fëdor?” she asked.
“Yes, capitally.”
“You see, he holds it up.” (She meant the baby’s head.) “But how he did frighten me … You’ve seen the princess? Is it true she’s in love with that …”
“Yes, just fancy …”
At that moment Nikoláy and Countess Márya came in. Pierre with the baby on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. But in spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the baby with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all his attention.
“How sweet!” said Countess Márya, looking at and playing with the