# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Eight/Chapter 2

​Katavasof seized the opportunity to fulfil a promise he had made to visit Levin, and the two friends left town together.
CHAPTER II
Sergyeï Ivanovitch and Katavasof had just reached the station of the Kursk Railway, which was especially crowded that day, and, leaving their carriage, they were looking at a lackey who had followed them laden with various articles, when four cabs filled with volunteers also drove up. Ladies carrying bouquets met them, and accompanied by a crowd they entered the station.
One of the ladies who had come to meet the volunteers came out of the waiting-room and addressed Sergyeï Ivanovitch.
"Did you also come to see them off?" she asked, speaking in French.
"No; I am going myself, princess, to have a little rest at my brother's. But are you still on escort duty?" he added, with a scarcely perceptible smile of amusement.
"I have to be," replied the princess. "But tell me, is it true that we have sent off eight hundred already? Malvinsky told me so."
"More than eight hundred. We've sent off more than a thousand, if we count those not immediately from Moscow," said Sergyeï Ivanovitch.
"There, I said so!" cried the lady, delighted. "And is it true that the subscriptions amount to nearly a million?"
"More than that, princess."
"Have you read the news? They have beaten the Turks again."
"Yes, I read about it," replied Sergyeï Ivanovitch. She referred to a recent despatch, which confirmed the report that three days before the Turks had been beaten at every point, and had fled, and that the next day a decisive battle was expected.
"Oh, by the way, do you know a splendid young ​fellow is petitioning to go? I don't see why they put obstacles in his way. I wanted to ask you to put your signature on his petition. I know him. He comes from the Countess Lidia Ivanovna."
After asking some particulars in regard to the young man, Sergyei Ivanovitch went into the waiting-room, affixed his signature to the document, and handed it back to the princess.
"Do you know Count Vronsky, the famous, is going on this train?" said the princess, with a triumphant and significant smile, as he rejoined her and handed her the petition.
"I heard that he was going; but I did not know when. On this train?"
"I just saw him. He is here. His mother is the only one with him. All things considered, I do not think he could do anything better."
"Oh, yes! Of course."
During this conversation the crowd had rushed into the restaurant of the station, where a man with a glass in his hand was making an address to the volunteers:—
"For the service of our faith and humanity and our brethren," he said, raising his voice, "Matushka Moskva—Mother Moscow—gives you her blessing in this noble cause. May it prosper!" he concluded, with tears in his eyes. The crowd responded with cheers, and a fresh throng poured into the waiting-room, nearly overwhelming the princess.
"Ah, princess! What do you say to this?" cried Stepan Arkadyevitch, who, with a radiant smile of joy, suddenly appeared in the midst of the throng. "Did n't he speak gloriously? Bravo! And here's Sergyeï Ivanovitch. You ought to speak just a few words, you know, of encouragement, you do it so well," added Oblonsky, touching Koznuishef's arm, with an expression of suave, flattering deference.
"Oh, no; I am leaving immediately."
"Where?"
​"Then you'll see my wife. I have written her, but you'll see her before she gets my letter. Please tell her that you met me, and everything is all right, she will understand; and be so good as to tell her, too, that I got my place as member of the Commission of .... Well, she knows what that is, you know, les petites misères de la vie humaine," said he, turning to the princess, as if in apology. "Miagkaïa, not Liza, but Bibiche, sends a thousand guns and twelve hospital nurses. Did I tell you"
"Yes; I heard about it," answered Koznuishef, coldly.
"But what a pity you are going away," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch. "We give a farewell dinner to-morrow to two volunteers,—at Dimer's,—Bartnyansky of Petersburg, and our Veslovsky—Grisha. Both are going. Veslovsky is just married. He 's a fine lad. Isn't it so, princess?" he added, addressing the lady.
The princess did not reply, but looked at Koznuishef. The fact that the princess and Sergyef Ivanovitch evidently wanted to get rid of him did not in the least disconcert Stepan Arkadyevitch. Smiling, he glanced now at the princess's hat plume, now off to one side or the other as if searching for a new subject; and, as he saw a lady going by with a subscription-box, he beckoned to her, and handed her a five-ruble note.
"I can't bear to see these subscription-boxes pass by me, now that I have ready money," he said. "What splendid news there is! Hurrah for the Montenegrins!"
"What's that you say?" he cried, when the princess told him that Vronsky was going by the first train. For an instant Stepan Arkadyevitch's face grew sad, but the next moment, slightly limping with both feet, and stroking his side-whiskers, he went off to the room where Vronsky was. He had already entirely forgotten the tears he had shed over his sister's grave, and saw in Vronsky only a hero and an old friend.
"One must do him justice, in spite of his faults," said the princess to Sergyeï Ivanovitch, when Oblonsky was gone. "He has the true Russian, the Slavic, nature. But I am afraid it will be disagreeable to the count ​to see him. Whatever people may say, I pity that unhappy man. Try to talk a little with him on the journey," said the princess.
"Certainly, if I have a chance."
"I never liked him, but what he is doing now makes up for much. He is not only going himself, but he's taking out a squadron of cavalry at his own expense."
"Yes, so I have heard."
The bell rang, and the crowd pressed toward the doors.
"There he is," said the princess, pointing out Vronsky, who was dressed in a long coat and a broad-brimmed black hat. His mother was leaning on his arm. Oblonsky followed them, talking vivaciously.
Vronsky was frowning, and looked straight ahead, as if not listening to what Stepan Arkadyevitch said.
Apparently at Oblonsky's suggestion, he looked in the direction where Sergyeï Ivanovitch and the princess were standing, and raised his hat silently.
His face, which had grown old and worn, was like stone. Going out on the platform, Vronsky, silently quitting his mother's side, vanished from sight in his compartment.
On the platform, men were singing the national hymn. Then hurrahs and vivas resounded. One of the volunteers, a tall, very young man, with stooping shoulders, ostentatiously responded to the public, waving above his head a felt hat and a bouquet; while behind him two officers, and an elderly man with a full beard and a greasy cap, put out their heads, also bowing.