After Pierre’s departure that first evening, when Natásha had said to Princess Márya with a gaily mocking smile: “He looks just, yes, just as if he had come out of a Russian bath⁠—in a short coat and with his hair cropped,” something hidden and unknown to herself, but irrepressible, awoke in Natásha’s soul.

Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. To her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to the surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to have forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer complained of her position, did not say a word about the past, and no longer feared to make happy plans for the future. She spoke little of Pierre, but when Princess Márya mentioned him a long-extinguished light once more kindled in her eyes and her lips curved with a strange smile.