第191章

第191章stillwalkingabouttheroom,nikolayglancedgloomilyatdenisovandthegirls,avoidingtheireyes.

“nikolenka,what’sthematter？”sonya’seyesasked,lookingintentlyathim.shesawatoncethatsomethinghadhappenedtohim.

nikolayturnedawayfromher.natasha,too,withherquickinstinctinstantlydetectedherbrother’sstateofmind.shenoticedhim,butshewasherselfinsuchhighspiritsatthatmoment,shewassofarfromsorrow,fromsadness,fromreproaches,thatpurposelyshedeceivedherself（asyoungpeoplesooftendo）.“no,i’mtoohappyjustnowtospoilmyenjoymentbysympathywithanyone’ssorrow,”shefelt,andshesaidtoherself：“no,i’mmostlikelymistaken,hemustbehappy,justasiam.”

“come,sonya,”shesaid.walkingintotheverymiddleoftheroom,wheretohermindtheresonancewasbestofall.holdingherheadup,lettingherarmshanglifelesslyasdancersdo,natasha,withavigorousturnfromherheelontohertoe,walkedovertothemiddleoftheroomandstoodstill.

“beholdme,hereiam！”sheseemedtosay,inresponsetotheenthusiasticgazewithwhichdenisovfollowedher.“andwhatcanshefindtobesopleasedat！”nikolaywondered,lookingathissister.“howisitsheisn’tfeelingdullandashamed！”natashatookthefirstnote,herthroatswelled,herbosomheaved,aseriousexpressioncameintoherface.shewasthinkingofnooneandofnothingatthatmoment,andfromhersmilingmouthpouredforthnotes,thosenotesthatanyonecanproduceatthesameintervals,andholdforthesamelengthoftime,yetathousandtimestheyleaveuscold,andthethousandandfirsttimetheysetusthrillingandweeping.

natashahadforthefirsttimebegunthatwintertotakesingingseriously,especiallysincedenisovhadbeensoenthusiasticoverhersinging.shedidnotnowsinglikeachild;therewasnotnowinhersingingthatcomicalchildisheffortwhichusedtobeperceptibleinit.butshedidnotyetsingwell,saidthemusicalconnoisseurswhoheardher.“nottrained：afinevoice,itmustbetrained,”everyonesaid.butthiswasusuallysaidagoodwhileafterhervoicewashushed.whilethatuntrainedvoice,withitsirregularbreathinganditsstrainedtransitionssounded,evenconnoisseurssaidnothing,andsimplyenjoyedthatuntrainedvoice,andsimplylongedtohearitagain.hervoicehadavirginalpurity,anignoranceofitscapacities,andanunlabouredvelvetysoftness,socloselyconnectedwithitslackofartinsinging,thatitseemedasthoughnothingcouldbechangedinthatvoicewithoutspoilingit.

“howisit？”thoughtnikolay,hearinghervoiceandopeninghiseyeswide;“whathashappenedtoher？howsheissingingto-day！”hethought.andallatoncethewholeworldwasforhimconcentratedintoanticipationsofthenextnote,thenextbar,andeverythingintheworldseemeddividedupintothreemotives：“oh,miocrudeleaffetto…one,two,three…one…oh,miocrudeleaffetto…one,two,three…one.ugh,thissenselesslifeofours！”thoughtnikolay.“allthat,thiscalamity,andmoney,anddolohov,andanger,andhonour—it’sallnonsense…andthisiswhat’stherealthing…now,natasha！now,darling！now,mygirl！…howwillshetakethatsi？takenit！thankgod！”andwithoutbeingconsciousthathewassinging,hehimselfsungasecondtosupportherhighnote.“mygod！howfine！canihavetakenthatnote？howglorious！”hethought.

oh,howthatnotehadthrilled,andhowsomethingbetterthatwasinrostov’ssoulbeganthrillingtoo.andthatsomethingwasapartfromeverythingintheworld,andaboveeverythingintheworld.whatwerelosses,anddolohovs,andhonourbesideit！…allnonsense！onemightmurder,andsteal,andyetbehappy.…