Chapter 13

           

           Onenightwhentheoldcountess,innightcapanddressingjacket,withoutherfalsecurls,andwithherpoorlittleknobofhairshowingunderherwhitecottoncap,kneltsighingandgroaningonarugandbowingtothegroundinprayer,herdoorcreakedandNatásha,alsoinadressingjacketwithslippersonherbarefeetandherhairincurlpapers,ranin.Thecountess—herprayerfulmooddispelled—lookedroundandfrowned.Shewasfinishingherlastprayer:“Canitbethatthiscouchwillbemygrave?”Natásha,flushedandeager,seeinghermotherinprayer,suddenlycheckedherrush,halfsatdown,andunconsciouslyputouthertongueasifchidingherself.Seeingthathermotherwasstillprayingsheranontiptoetothebedand,rapidlyslippingonelittlefootagainsttheother,pushedoffherslippersandjumpedontothebedthecountesshadfearedmightbecomehergrave.Thiscouchwashigh,withafeatherbedandfivepillowseachsmallerthantheonebelow.Natáshajumpedonit,sankintothefeatherbed,rolledovertothewall,andbegansnugglingupthebedclothesasshesettleddown,raisingherkneestoherchin,kickingoutandlaughingalmostinaudibly,nowcoveringherselfupheadandall,andnowpeepingathermother.Thecountessfinishedherprayersandcametothebedwithasternface,butseeingthatNatásha’sheadwascovered,shesmiledinherkind,weakway.

           “Nowthen,nowthen!”saidshe.

           “Mamma,canwehaveatalk?Yes?”saidNatásha.“Now,justoneonyourthroatandanother...that’lldo!”Andseizinghermotherroundtheneck,shekissedheronthethroat.

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