was
stupefied
to hear he
was going
to
Petersburg.
“To
Petersburg！”
she
repeated,
as though
unable to
take it
in. But
looking at
the
mournful
expression
of
Princess
Marya’s
face she
divined
the cause
of her
sadness,
and
suddenly
burst into
tears.
“Marie,”
she said,
“tell me
what I am
to do. I
am afraid
of being
horrid.
Whatever
you say, I
will do;
tell me …”
“You love
him？”
“Yes！”
whispered
Natasha.
“What are
you crying
for, then？
