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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？