Count Rostóv takes the girls to Countess Bezúkhova's. There are many people, nearly all strangers to Natásha, and the count is displeased to see a company known for free conduct: Mademoiselle George in a corner surrounded by young men, Frenchmen including Métivier, an intimate of Hélène's since she reached Moscow. He decides not to sit down to cards, not to let the girls out of his sight, and to leave as soon as the recitation is over. Anatole is at the door, on the lookout. As soon as Natásha sees him she feels again the opera's mix of gratified vanity and fear at the missing moral barrier.
Hélène is loud in admiration of her beauty and dress. Chairs are arranged. Anatole moves a seat for Natásha; the count takes it himself; Anatole sits behind her. Mademoiselle George, fat dimpled arms, red shawl on one shoulder, recites French verses of guilty love for her son, raising her voice, whispering, rolling her eyes. The room murmurs adorable, divine. Natásha neither sees nor understands. She is borne again into a world where good and bad cannot be known, with Anatole's proximity a frightened expectancy. After the first monologue he follows her through the crowd and, at a moment only she can hear, says that from the moment he saw her he has never ceased. The count turns back. After more recitations Hélène asks them into the ballroom. The count wants to go; Hélène entreats him not to spoil her improvised ball. They stay.
Anatole asks Natásha for a valse, presses her waist and hand, and tells her he loves her. In the écossaise he says nothing, only gazes. She lifts frightened eyes, cannot speak, then says rapidly that she is betrothed and loves another. He is not pained. Do not speak of that; he is madly in love; is it his fault that she is enchanting? She begs to remain when her father asks to leave. Later she will recall asking to rearrange her dress, Hélène laughing of her brother's love, then the little sitting room where Hélène disappears. Anatole takes her hand, blocks her path, whispers Natalie, and burning lips are pressed to hers just as Hélène's dress rustles. Natásha, red and trembling, moves toward the door. He cries for one word and repeats it, not knowing what to say, until Hélène returns. The Rostóvs leave without supper. All night Natásha is tormented by whether she loves Anatole or Andrew. She remembers distinctly how deeply she loved Andrew. But she also loves Anatole, or how could she have returned his smile? What is she to do if she loves both?
Coming Up in Chapter 159
Morning comes with its cares and bustle. Everyone gets up and begins to move about and talk, the dressmakers come again, Marya Dmitrievna appears, and they are called to breakfast. Natasha keeps looking uneasily at everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to intercept every glance directed towards her, and tries to appear the same as usual.
