The city around the two young women came closer to conquest by Napoleon, and Polina and Natasha often went to the garden of Polina’s house to sit alone with their braids and no bonnets. Natasha fed a small bird she was not supposed to. Polina shook her friend “You must hear this!” she said, and began to read to Natasha leaflets by Rastopchin, the governor-general of Moscow, calling the attacking French scoundrels and whores.

“Such hypocrisy!” cried Polina standing up.

“It was only yesterday that all of Moscow was speaking French! Now the French are evil? I want to defend my country as much as this ‘Rastopchin,’ but why attack the French? Napoleon is the enemy!” Polina was now shouting.

Natasha watched the speech from the garden bench, her hands tucked under her. She brought her eyebrows together to look very serious. She thought she should clap. And then sadness crossed her face, a sadness she had not permitted herself to think of for some time. Prince Andrei was in the army. She shaped words with her mouth but made no sounds. Imagining her mother’s reproaches she started to bless herself with frantic movements.

“Why are you doing that Natasha? Stop! What is it?” said Polina taking Natasha’s two hands and pressing them between her own.