sitting-room, was copying a drawing. The countess was playing out a
"patience," and Nastacia Ivanovna, the old buffoon, with his peevish
face, sitting in a window with two old women, did not say a word.

Natacha came into the room, and, after leaning over Sonia for a minute
or two to examine her work, went over to her mother and stood still in
front of her.

The countess looked up. "Why are you wandering about like a soul in
torment? What do you want?" she said.

"Want! I want him!" replied Natacha, shortly, and her eyes glowed. "Now,
here--at once!"

Her mother gazed at her anxiously.

"Do not look at me like that; you will make me cry."

"Sit down here."

"Mamma, I want him, I want him! Why must I die of weariness?" Her voice
broke and tears started from her eyes. She hastily quitted the
drawing-room and went to the housekeeper's room, where an old servant
was scolding one of the girls who had just come in breathless from
out-of-doors.

"There is a time for all things," growled the old woman. "You have had
time enough for play."

"Oh, leave her in peace, Kondratievna," said Natacha. "Run away,