1 Natasha was in ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing.
2 Only they generally said this some time after she had finished singing.
3 Then the king again shouted to the sound of music, and they all began singing.
4 He smiled, looking at her, and said he liked her singing as he liked everything she did.
5 Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a blasphemy, in face of her sorrow.
6 After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the clavichord and began singing.
7 Four more reports followed at intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the fog singing in different tones.
8 He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his sparkling black-agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha.
9 Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing seriously, mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing.
10 Before Natasha had finished singing, fourteen-year-old Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some mummers had arrived.
11 Having finished her morning tea she went to the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud resonance, and began singing her solfeggio.
12 As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was proposed and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more glass was smashed, and the shouting grew louder.
13 First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, then they both paused while the orchestra played and the man fingered the hand of the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to start singing with her.
14 The commander-in-chief made a sign that the men should continue to march at ease, and he and all his suite showed pleasure at the sound of the singing and the sight of the dancing soldier and the gay and smartly marching men.
15 When they had finished their song the girl in white went up to the prompter's box and a man with tight silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding a plume and a dagger, went up to her and began singing, waving his arms about.
16 In her voice there was a virginal freshness, an unconsciousness of her own powers, and an as yet untrained velvety softness, which so mingled with her lack of art in singing that it seemed as if nothing in that voice could be altered without spoiling it.
17 As she looked and thought, the strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box and singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to Helene and tickle her.
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