1 He had evidently not slept that night.
2 The night was fresh, bright, and very still.
3 That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to sleep.
4 In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to Petersburg.
5 It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the boy who was in a high fever.
6 From morning till late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at science.
7 He was glad to see Prince Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his staying the night.
8 These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from his club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and daughter.
9 Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of suspense and softening of heart in the presence of the unfathomable did not lessen but increased.
10 Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph Alexeevich.
11 The night after the duel he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained in his father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died.
12 He had been engrossed by the same thoughts ever since the day he returned from Sokolniki after the duel and had spent that first agonizing, sleepless night.
13 He reminded her of their first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and how she had been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and told her how he had involuntarily overheard her.
14 Austerlitz with the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night itself and the moon, and.
15 He was entirely absorbed by two considerations: his wife's guilt, of which after his sleepless night he had not the slightest doubt, and the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had no reason to preserve the honor of a man who was nothing to him.
16 One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket, without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also in a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in curlpapers, ran in.
17 One morning, between seven and eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head.
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