“Sonya, when will he come back? When shall I see him? My God! I feel so frightened for him, and for me, and frightened for everything …” cried Natasha; and answering not a word to Sonya’s attempts to comfort her, she got into bed, and long after the candle had been put out she lay with wide-open eyes motionless on the bed, staring into the frosty moonlight through the frozen window-panes.