1 Katerina Sergyevna has a son, little Nikolai, while Mitya runs about merrily and talks fluently.
2 There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in her seat.
3 Pierre smiled, looking about him merrily.
4 The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes and her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as merrily and prettily as ever.
5 The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and merrily began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary should be dressed.
6 The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs resounded even more merrily than on the previous night.
7 Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, felt envious and Natasha could not help joining in.
8 She did not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked simply, merrily, and inquisitively at him.
9 Believing their danger past, they sprang from their ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill little voices and holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned feet scampered merrily and quickly across the meadow grass.
10 The sunshine from behind the hill did not penetrate into the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above Pierre's head was the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded merrily.
11 But before he reached the foot of the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian soldiers who, stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and wildly toward the battery.
12 The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked merrily at him.
13 Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had long known that Levin was in love with his sister-in-law, Kitty, gave a hardly perceptible smile, and his eyes sparkled merrily.
14 Meanwhile men ran to and fro, talking merrily together, their steps crackling on the platform as they continually opened and closed the big doors.
15 Everyone had something to say in censure or ridicule of the luckless Madame Maltishtcheva, and the conversation crackled merrily, like a burning faggot-stack.