The uncle sang,

The uncle sang, as peasants sing, in full and naive conviction that in a song the whole value rests in the words, that the tune comes of itself and that a tune apart is nothing, that the tune is only for the sake of the verse. And this gave the uncle’s unself-conscious singing a peculiar charm, like the song of birds. Natasha was in ecstasies over the uncle’s singing. She made up her mind not to learn the harp any longer, but to play only on the guitar. She asked the uncle for the guitar and at once struck the chords of the song. At ten o’clock there arrived the wagonette, a trap, and three men on horseback, who had been sent to look for Natasha and Petya. The count and countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, so said one of the men. Petya was carried out and laid in the wagonette as though he had been a corpse. Natasha and Nikolay got into the trap. The uncle wrapped Natasha up, and said good-bye to her with quite a new tenderness. He accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge which they had to ride round, fording the stream, and bade his huntsmen ride in front with lanterns. “Farewell, dear little niece!” they heard called in the darkness by his voice, not the one Natasha had been familiar with before, but the voice that had sung “When there fall at evening glow.” There were red lights in the village they drove through and a cheerful smell of smoke. “What a darling that uncle is!” said Natasha as they drove out into the highroad. “Yes,” said Nikolay. “You’re not cold?” “No, I’m very comfortable; very. I am so happy,” said Natasha, positively perplexed at her own well-being. They were silent for a long while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but could only hear them splashing through the unseen mud. What was passing in that childlike, responsive soul, that so eagerly caught and made its own all the varied impressions of life? How were they all stored away in her heart? But she was very happy. They were getting near home when she suddenly hummed the air of “When there fall at evening glow,” which she had been trying to get all the way, and had only just succeeded in catching. “Have you caught it?” said Nikolay. “What are you thinking of just now, Nikolay?” asked Natasha. They were fond of asking each other that question. “I?” said Nikolay, trying to recall. “Well, you see, at first I was thinking that Rugay, the red dog, is like the uncle, and that if he were a man he would keep uncle always in the house with him, if not for racing, for music he’d keep him anyway. How jolly uncle is! Isn’t he? Well, and you?” “I? Wait a minute; wait a minute! Oh, I was thinking at first that here we are driving and supposing that we are going home, but God knows where we are going in this darkness, and all of a sudden we shall arrive and see we are not at Otradnoe but in fairyland. And then I thought, too … no; nothing more.”