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When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was in full flow of self…complacent talk； while Prince Andrey seemed embarrassed—a thing that rarely happened to him。
“What do you think？” Vera was saying with a subtle smile。 “You； prince； have so much penetration and see into people’s characters at once。 What do you think about Natalie？ Is she capable of constancy in her attachments？ Is she capable； like other women” （Vera meant herself） “of loving a man once for all and remaining faithful to him for ever？ That’s what I regard as true love！ What do you think； prince？”
“I know your sister too little；” answered Prince Andrey； with a sarcastic smile； under which he tried to conceal his embarrassment； “to decide a question so delicate； and； besides； I have noticed that the less attractive a woman is； the more constant she is apt to be；” he added； and he looked at Pierre； who at that moment joined them。
“Yes； that is true； prince。 In these days；” pursued Vera （talking of “these days；” as persons of limited intellect as a rule love to do； supposing they have discovered and estimated the peculiarities of the times and that human characteristics do change with the times）； “in these days a girl has so much liberty that the pleasure of being paid attention often stifles these feelings in her。 And Natalie； it must be confessed； is very susceptible on that side。”
This going back to Natasha again made Prince Andrey contract his brows disagreeably。 He tried to get up； but Vera persisted with a still more subtle smile。
“Nobody； I imagine； has been so much run after as she has；” Vera went on； “but no one； until quite of late； has ever made a serious impression on her。 Of course； you know； count；” she turned to Pierre； “even our charming cousin； Boris； who； entre nous； was very； very far gone in the region of the tender passion …” She intended an allusion to the map of love then in fashion。
Prince Andrey scowled； and was mute。
“But； of course； you are a friend of Boris’s？” Vera said to him
“Yes； I know him。 …”
“He has probably told you of his childish love for Natasha？”
“Oh； was there a childish love between them？” asked Prince Andrey with a sudden； unexpected flush on his face。
“Yes。 You know between cousins the close intimacy often leads to love。 Cousinhood is a dangerous neighbourhood。 Isn’t it？”
“Oh； not a doubt of it；” said Prince Andrey； and with sudden and unnatural liveliness； he began joking with Pierre about the necessity of his being careful with his cousins at Moscow； ladies of fifty； and in the middle of these jesting remarks he got up； and taking Pierre’s arm； drew him aside。
“Well； what is it？” said Pierre； who had been watching in wonder his friend’s excitement； and noticed the glance he turned upon Natasha as he got up。
“I must； I must talk to you；” said Prince Andrey。 “You know that pair of women’s gloves” （he referred to the masonic gloves given to a newly initiated brother to be entrusted to the woman he loved）。 “I … but no； I will talk to you later on。 …” And with a strange light in his eyes and a restlessness in his movements； Prince Andrey approached Natasha and sat down beside her。 Pierre saw that Prince Andrey asked her some question； and she answered him； flushing hotly。
But at that moment Berg approached Pierre； and insisted upon his taking part in an argument between the general and the colonel on affairs in Spain。
Berg was satisfied and happy。 The smile of glee never left his face。 The soirée was a great success； and exactly like other soirées he had seen。 Everything was precisely similar： the ladies’ refined conversation； and the cards； and after the cards the general raising his voice and the samovar and the tea cakes； but one thing was still lacking； which he had always seen at soirées； and wished to imitate。 There was still wanting the usual loud conversation between the gentlemen and discussion about some serious intellectual question。 The general had started that conversation； and Berg drew Pierre into it。
Chapter 22
NEXT DAY Prince Andrey went to dine at the Rostovs’； as Count Ilya Andreitch had invited him； and spent the whole day with them。
Every one in the house perceived on whose account Prince Andrey came； and he openly tried to be all day long with Natasha。
Not only in the soul of Natasha—scared； but happy and enthusiastic—in the whole household； too； there was a feeling of awe； of something of great gravity being bound to happen。 With sorrowful and sternly serious eyes the countess looked at Prince Andrey as he talked to Natasha； and shyly and self…consciously tried to begin some insignificant talk with him as soon as he looked round at her。 Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha； and afraid of being in their way if she stayed with them。 Natasha turned pale in a panic of expectation every time she was left for a moment alone with him。 Prince Andrey’s timidity impressed her。 She felt that he wanted to tell her something； but could not bring himself up to the point。
When Prince Andrey had gone away in the evening； the countess went up to Natasha and whispered：
“Well？”
“Mamma； for God’s sake； don’t ask me anything just now。 This one can’t talk of；” said Natasha。
But in spite of this answer； Natasha lay a long while in her mother’s bed that night； her eyes fixed before her； excited and scared by turns。 She told her how he had praised her； how he had said he was going abroad； how he had asked where they were going to spend the summer； and how he had asked her about Boris。
“But anything like this； like this … I have never felt before！” she said。 “Only I’m afraid with him； I’m always afraid with him。 What does that mean？ Does it mean that it’s the real thing？ Mamma； are you asleep？”
“No； my darling。 I’m afraid of him myself；” answered her mother。 “Go to bed。”
“Anyhow； I shouldn’t go to sleep。 How stupid sleep is！ Mamma； mamma； nothing like this have I ever felt before；” she said； with wonder and terror at the feeling she recognised in herself。 “And could we ever have dreamed！ …”
It seemed to Natasha that she had fallen in love with Prince Andrey the first time she saw him at Otradnoe。 She was as it were terrified at this strange； unexpected happiness that the man she had chosen even then （she was firmly convinced that she had done so）—that very man should meet them again now and be apparently not indifferent to her。
“And it seems as though it all happened on purpose—his coming to Petersburg just while we are here。 And our meeting at that ball。 It was all fate。 It’s clear that it is fate； that it has all led up to this。 Even then； as soon as I saw him； I felt something quite different。”
“What has he said to you？ What are those verses？ Read them …” said the mother thoughtfully； referring to the verses Prince Andrey had written in Natasha’s album。
“Mamma； does it matter his being a widower？”
“Hush； Natasha。 Pray to God。 Marriages are made in heaven；” she said； quoting the French proverb。
“Mamma； darling； how I love you！ how happy I am！” cried Natasha； shedding tears of excitement and happiness and hugging her mother。
At that very time Prince Andrey was telling Pierre of his love f