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"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in

the fire and pressed it there!"

Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what

used to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly

bright eyes, Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood

which had no meaning for anyone else, but gave him some of the

best joys of his life; and the burning of an arm with a ruler as

a proof of love did not seem to him senseless, he understood and

was not surprised at it.

"Well, and is that all?" he asked.

"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was

just nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves

anyone, does it for life, but I don't understand that, I forget

quickly."

"Well, what then?"

"Well, she loves me and you like that."

Natasha suddenly flushed.