WitharapidbutcarefulmovementNatashadrewnearertohimonherkneesand, takinghishandcarefully, bentherfaceoveritandbegankissingit, justtouchingitlightlywithherlips.
"Forgiveme!" shewhispered, raisingherheadandglancingathim."Forgiveme!"
"Iloveyou," saidPrinceAndrew.
"Forgive...!"
"Forgivewhat?" heasked.
"ForgivemeforwhatIha-vedo-ne!" falteredNatashainascarcelyaudible, brokenwhisper, andbegankissinghishandmorerapidly, justtouchingitwithherlips.
"Iloveyoumore, betterthanbefore," saidPrinceAndrew, liftingherfacewithhishandsoastolookintohereyes.
Thoseeyes, filledwithhappytears, gazedathimtimidly, compassionately, 'sthinpaleface, withitsswollenlips, wasmorethanplain—, .
Peterthevalet, whowasnowwideawake, , whohadnotsleptatallbecauseofthepaininhisleg, hadlongbeenwatchingallthatwasgoingon, carefullycoveringhisbarebodywiththesheetashehuddleduponhisbench.
"What'sthis?" saidthedoctor, risingfromhisbed."Pleasegoaway, madam!"
Atthatmomentamaidsentbythecountess, whohadnoticedherdaughter'sabsence, knockedatthedoor.
LikeasomnambulistarousedfromhersleepNatashawentoutoftheroomand, returningtoherhut, fellsobbingonherbed.
Fromthattime, duringalltherestoftheRostovs' journey, ateveryhaltingplaceandwherevertheyspentanight, NatashaneverleftthewoundedBolkonski, andthedoctorhadtoadmitthathehadnotexpectedfromayounggirleithersuchfirmnessorsuchskillinnursingawoundedman.
DreadfulasthecountessimagineditwouldbeshouldPrinceAndrewdieinherdaughter'sarmsduringthejourney—as, judgingbywhatthedoctorsaid, itseemedmighteasilyhappen—, noone—leastofallNatashaandPrinceAndrew—spokeofthis: theunsettledquestionoflifeanddeath, whichhungnotonlyoverBolkonskibutoverallRussia, shutoutallotherconsiderations.
