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Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to

Nicholas, and whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that

he was already an officer and a wounded hero, would it be right

to remind him of herself and, as it might seem, of the

obligations to her he had taken on himself?

"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said,

blushing.

"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?"

Sonya smiled.

"No."

"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to."

"Why should you be ashamed?"

"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed."

"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by

Natasha's previous remark. "It's because she was in love with

that fat one in spectacles" (that was how Petya described his

namesake, the new Count Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with

that singer" (he meant Natasha's Italian singing master), "that's

why she's ashamed!"

"Petya, you're stupid!" said Natasha.