knowing by experience that in the present condition of the public temper it
was dangerous to express an opinion opposed to the general one, and
especially to criticize the volunteers unfavorably, he too watched Katavasov
without committing himself.
“Well, men are wanted there,” he said, laughing with his eyes. And they
fell to talking of the last war news, and each concealed from the other his
perplexity as to the engagement expected next day, since the Turks had been
beaten, according to the latest news, at all points. And so they parted,
neither giving expression to his opinion.
Katavasov went back to his own carriage, and with reluctant hypocrisy
reported to Sergey Ivanovitch his observations of the volunteers, from
which it would appear that they were capital fellows.
At a big station at a town the volunteers were again greeted with shouts
and singing, again men and women with collecting boxes appeared, and
provincial ladies brought bouquets to the volunteers and followed them into
the refreshment room; but all this was on a much smaller and feebler scale
than in Moscow.
Chapter 4
While the train was stopping at the provincial town, Sergey Ivanovitch
did not go to the refreshment room, but walked up and down the platform.
The first time he passed Vronsky’s compartment he noticed that the
curtain was drawn over the window; but as he passed it the second time he
saw the old countess at the window. She beckoned to Koznishev.
“I’m going, you see, taking him as far as Kursk,” she said.
“Yes, so I heard,” said Sergey Ivanovitch, standing at her window and
peeping in. “What a noble act on his part!” he added, noticing that Vronsky
was not in the compartment.
“Yes, after his misfortune, what was there for him to do?”
“What a terrible thing it was!” said Sergey Ivanovitch.
“Ah, what I have been through! But do get in…. Ah, what I have been
through!” she repeated, when Sergey Ivanovitch had got in and sat down
beside her. “You can’t conceive it! For six weeks he did not speak to
anyone, and would not touch food except when I implored him. And not for
one minute could we leave him alone. We took away everything he could
have used against himself. We lived on the ground floor, but there was no
reckoning on anything. You know, of course, that he had shot himself once
already on her account,” she said, and the old lady’s eyelashes twitched at
the recollection. “Yes, hers was the fitting end for such a woman. Even the
death she chose was low and vulgar.”
“It’s not for us to judge, countess,” said Sergey Ivanovitch; “but I can
understand that it has been very hard for you.”
“Ah, don’t speak of it! I was staying on my estate, and he was with me. A
note was brought him. He wrote an answer and sent it off. We hadn’t an
idea that she was close by at the station. In the evening I had only just gone
to my room, when my Mary told me a lady had thrown herself under the
train. Something seemed to strike me at once. I knew it was she. The first
thing I said was, he was not to be told. But they’d told him already. His
coachman was there and saw it all. When I ran into his room, he was beside
himself—it was fearful to see him. He didn’t say a word, but galloped off
there. I don’t know to this day what happened there, but he was brought
back at death’s door. I shouldn’t have known him. Prostration complète, the
doctor said. And that was followed almost by madness. Oh, why talk of it!”
said the countess with a wave of her hand. “It was an awful time! No, say
what you will, she was a bad woman. Why, what is the meaning of such
desperate passions? It was all to show herself something out of the way.
Well, and that she did do. She brought herself to ruin and two good men—
her husband and my unhappy son.”
“And what did her husband do?” asked Sergey Ivanovitch.
“He has taken her daughter. Alexey was ready to agree to anything at
first. Now it worries him terribly that he should have given his own child
away to another man. But he can’t take back his word. Karenin came to the
funeral. But we tried to prevent his meeting Alexey. For him, for her
husband, it was easier, anyway. She had set him free. But my poor son was
utterly given up to her. He had thrown up everything, his career, me, and
even then she had no mercy on him, but of set purpose she made his ruin
complete. No, say what you will, her very death was the death of a vile
