to the sleigh in which Natacha was sitting.

"Listen," he said, in a whisper and in French; "I have made up my mind
to tell Sonia."

"And you have spoken to her?" exclaimed Natacha, radiant with joy.

"Oh, Natacha, how queer that mustache makes you look! Are you glad?"

"Glad! I am delighted. I did not say anything, you know, but I have been
so vexed with you. She is a jewel, a heart of gold. I--I am often
naughty, and I have no right to have all the happiness to myself now.
Go, go back to her."

"No. Wait one minute. Mercy, how funny you look!" he repeated, examining
her closely and discovering in her face, too, an unwonted tenderness and
emotion that struck him deeply. "Natacha, is there not some magic at the
bottom of it all, heh?"

"You have acted very wisely. Go."

"If I had ever seen Natacha look as she does at this moment I should
have asked her advice and have obeyed her, whatever she had bid me do;
and all would have gone well. So you are glad?" he said, aloud. "I have
done right?"

"Yes, yes, of course you have! I was quite angry with mamma the other
day about you two. Mamma would have it that Sonia was running after you.
I will not allow any one to say--no, nor even to think--any evil of her,
for she is sweetness and truth itself."