"May I present the Countess, Natalya Rostova."
"Oh. Oh, hello. Won't you come in."
"Hello."
(Natasha and Mary awkwardly move to a table in silence.)
And from the first glance, I do not like Natasha. Too fashionably dressed, frivolous and vain. Her beauty, youth, and happiness. My brother's love for her. And my father-
"I do not wish to see her!"
I know at any moment he might indulge in some freak.
"I'm sorry the prince is still ailing."
"Songstress!"
******
I am not afraid of anyone. But such hesitation, such unnatural manners. And from the first glance, I do not like Princess Mary. Too plain and affected, insolent and dry. I shrink into myself, assume an offhand air.
******
Which alienates me still more.
Constrained and strained. Constrained and strained. Constrained and strained. Irksome. Irksome.
(The Prince enters in his underthings.)
"Oh!"
"Papa!"
"Oh, so this is Natasha. Not much to look at," says the mean old man in his underthings.
"I never dress for children or peasants," says the mean old man in his underthings. And he looked at her once, head to toe, and left, muttering.
"I must take my leave."
"Please wait, dear Natalie. I want you to know how glad I am my brother has found happiness."
"Is that the truth? I think it is not convenient to speak of that now, dear Princess," she said, with such dignity and coldness.
******
What have I said? What have I done? Crying like a child. Oh, they were so awful. Oh, it all hurts so terribly. Andrey, where are you?
YOU ARE READING
The Great Chaos of 1812
Randomit's the (bway) lyrics to Great Comet of 1812 except it's in no logical order and in the style of a novel in the comments next to each line/paragraph will be both the character saying the line and annotations by Dave Malloy
