In Natasha’s eyes all the people at the ball were good, kind, splendid people, loving one another and incapable of offending one another, so they ought to be happy.
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Standing as usual in the middle of the ballroom and choosing the place where the resonance was best, Natasha began to sing her mother’s favorite song. She had said she did not feel like singing, but it was long since she had sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the Countess, listened with closed eyes. "Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that is a European talent; she has nothing to learn: that tenderness, sweetness, power…" "Oh, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the Countess, not realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her that there was too much of something in Natasha, and that because of it she would not be happy.