“It’s a long while since we have had the pleasure …” the countess was beginning, but Prince Andrey cut her short, answering her implied question, and obviously in haste to say what he had to say.
“I have not been to see you all this time because I have been to see my father; I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I only returned last night,” he said, glancing at Natasha. “I want to have a talk with you, countess,” he added after a moment’s silence.
The countess dropped her eyes, sighing heavily.
“I am at your disposal,” she brought out.
Natasha knew she ought to go, but she was unable to do so： something seemed gripping her throat, and, regardless of civility, she stared straight at Prince Andrey with wide-open eyes.
“At once？ … This minute？ … No, it cannot be！” she was thinking.
He glanced at her again, and that glance convinced her that she was not mistaken. Yes, at once, this very minute her fate was to be decided.
“Run away, Natasha; I will call you,” the countess whispered.
With frightened and imploring eyes Natasha glanced at Prince Andrey and at her mother, and went out.
“I have come, countess, to ask for your daughter’s hand,” said Prince Andrey.
The countess’s face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.
“Your offer …” the countess began at last, sedately. He sat silent, looking into her face. “Your offer” … （she hesitated in confusion） “is agreeable to us, and … I accept your offer. I am glad of it. And my husband … I hope … but it must rest with herself …”
“I will speak to her, when I have received your consent.…Do you give it me？” said Prince Andrey.
“Yes,” said the countess, and she held out her hand to him, and with mingled feelings of aversion and tenderness she pressed her lips to his forehead as he bent to kiss her hand. Her wish was to love him as a son; but she felt that he was a man alien to her, and that she was afraid of him.
“I am sure my husband will consent,” said the countess; “but your father …”
“My father, whom I have informed of my plans, has made it an express condition that the marriage should not take place for a year. That too, I meant to speak of to you,” said Prince Andrey.
“It is true that Natasha is very young, but—so long as that？”
“It could not be helped,” said Prince Andrey with a sigh.
“I will send her to you,” said the countess, and she went out of the room.
“Lord, have mercy upon us！” she kept repeating as she looked for her daughter.
Sonya told her that Natasha was in her bedroom. She was sitting on her bed, with a pale face and dry eyes; she was gazing at the holy picture, and murmuring something to herself as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she leaped up and flew towards her.
“Well, mamma, … well？”
“Go, go to him. He asks your hand,” said the countess, coldly it seemed to Natasha.…“Yes … go …” the mother murmured mournfully and reproachfully with a deep sigh as her daughter ran off.
Natasha could not have said how she reached the drawing-room. As she entered the door and caught sight of him, she stopped short： “Is it possible that this stranger has now become everything to me？” she asked herself, and instantly answered： “Yes, everything： he alone is dearer to me now than everything in the world.” Prince Andrey approached her with downcast eyes.
“I have loved you from the first minute I saw you. Can I hope？”
