Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
lonely, I feel when you are
like that. It always seems to me..."
"Mary, dont talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he
"It seems to be that you cant love me, that I am so plain...
always... and now... in this cond..."
"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, its love
that makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind
who are loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I dont love
her, but... I dont know how to put it. Without you, or when something
comes between us like this, I seem lost and cant do anything. Now
do I love my finger? I dont love it, but just try to cut it off!"
"Im not like that myself, but I understand. So youre not angry
"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing
his hair he began to pace the room.
"Do you know, Mary, what Ive been thinking?" he began,
immediately thinking aloud in his wifes presence now that they had
made it up.
He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A
thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he
told her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till
Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and
in her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the
"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing
to little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here
is our logic. I say: Papa wants to sleep! but she says, No, hes
laughing. And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile.
"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong
hand, lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the
legs, and paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree
happiness on the faces of both father and daughter.
"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one,"
his wife whispered in French.
"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..."
At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps
in the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived.
"Somebody has come."
"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary
and left the room.
In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little
daughter a gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the
laughing child quickly from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart.
His capers reminded him of dancing, and looking at the childs round
happy little face he thought of what she would be like when he was
an old man, taking her into society and dancing the mazurka with her
as his old father had danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter.
"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering
the room a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You
should have seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed
away so long. Well, come along now, quick, quick! Its time you two
were parted," she added, looking smilingly at the little girl who
clung to her father.
Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand.
Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.
"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy,"
she whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time
she sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though
she felt, through her happiness, that there is another sort of
happiness unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily
thought at that instant.
Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already
had three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she
was now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was
difficult to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively
Natasha of former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm,
soft, and serene expression. In her face there was none of the
ever-glowing animation that had formerly burned there and constituted
its charm. Now her face and body were often all that one saw, and her
soul was not visible at all. All that struck the eye was a
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