Pierre & Natasha

Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room

With a pale, yet steady face

When I appeared in the doorway

She grew flustered and I hurried to her

I thought that she would give me her hand

But instead she stopped

Breathing heavily

Her thin arms hanging lifelessly

Just in the very pose she used to stand in as a young girl

When she went to the middle of the ballroom to sing

But the look on her face was quite different

Peter Kirilovich

Pierre

Prince Bolkonsky was your friend

He is your friend

He once told me that I should turn to you

Pierre sniffed as he looked at her

But he didn't speak, till then he had reproached her

And tried to despise her

But now he felt such pity for her

That there was no room in his soul for reproach

He is here now

Tell him to, tell him to forgive me

Yes, I will tell him to forgive you

But he gave me your letters

No, I know that all is over

I know that it never can be

But still I'm tormented

By the wrongs I've done him

Tell him that I beg him to forgive

Forgive, forgive me for everything

Yes, I will tell him, tell him everything

But, but I should like to know one thing

Did you love, did you love that bad man?

Don't call him bad

But I don't know

I don't know at all

She began to cry

And a greater sense of pity

Tenderness and love

Overflowed Pierre's heart

He felt the tears begin to trickle

Underneath his spectacles

And he hoped that no one would see

We won't speak of it anymore

We won't speak of it, my dear

But one thing, I beg of you

Consider me your friend

And if you ever need help

Or simply to open your heart to someone

Not now, but when your mind is clear

Think of me

Pierre grew confused

Don't speak to me like that

I am not worth it

Stop, stop stop

You have your whole life before you

Before me?

No, all is over for me

All over

If, if I were not myself

But the brightest, handsomest, best man on earth

And if I were free

I would get down on my knees

This minute

And ask you for your hand

And for your love

And for the first time in many days

I weep tears of gratitude

Tears of tenderness

Tears of thanks

And glancing at Pierre

Oh, Pierre

I leave the room smiling

And restraining tears of tenderness

Tears of joy which choke me

I throw my fur coat on my shoulders

Unable to find the sleeves

Outside, my great broad chest

Breathes in deep, the air

With joy

Despite the ten degrees of frost

And I get into my sleigh