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his face as if recognizing him, and then turned to the passing crowd evidently in search of some one. In that short look Vronsky had time to notice the subdued animation that enlivened her face and seemed to flutter between her bright eyes and a scarcely perceptible smile which curved her rosy lips. It was as if an excess of vitality so filled her whole being that it betrayed itself against her will, now in her smile, now in the light of her eyes. She deliberately tried to extinguish that light in her eyes, but it shone in spite of her in her faint smile.

      Vronsky entered the carriage. His mother, a thin old woman with black eyes and curled hair, screwed up her eyes as she recognized her son and her thin lips smiled slightly. She rose from the seat, and giving her handbag to her maid held out her small dry hand to her son, then lifting his head which had been bent to kiss her hand kissed him on his face.

      ‘You had my telegram? You’re well? That’s a good thing.’

      ‘Have you had a good journey?’ asked her son, sitting down on the seat beside her and involuntarily listening to a woman’s voice outside the door. He knew it was the voice of the lady he had met as he entered the carriage.

      ‘All the same I don’t agree with you,’ the lady was saying.

      ‘Yours are Petersburg views, madam.’

      ‘Not at all, simply a woman’s views.’

      ‘Well, allow me to kiss your hand.’

      ‘Au revoir, Ivan Petrovich, and please if you see my brother send him to me,’ said the lady, closing the door and again entering the compartment.

      ‘Well, have you found your brother?’ asked Vronsky’s mother, addressing the lady.

      Vronsky understood now that this was Mrs. Karenina.

      ‘Your brother is here,’ he said rising. ‘Excuse my not recognizing you before. Our acquaintance was so slight,’ he said with a bow, ‘that I am sure you do not remember me.’

      ‘Oh yes, I should have recognized you, especially as I believe your mother and I have talked of nothing but you all the way,’ said she, at last allowing the animation she had been trying to suppress to reveal itself in a smile. ‘But my brother is not here yet.’

      ‘Go and call him, Alexis,’ said the old Countess.

      Vronsky went out on to the platform and shouted, ‘Oblonsky! Here!’

      Mrs. Karenina did not wait for her brother to come in, but, on seeing him, descended from the carriage with a firm light step. As soon as her brother came up to her she threw her left arm round his neck with a movement that struck Vronsky by its firmness and grace, and drawing him to herself gave him a vigorous kiss. Vronsky did not take his eyes off her, and kept smiling, he knew not why. But remembering that his mother was waiting for him he went back into the carriage.

      ‘She is very charming, isn’t she?’ said the Countess, referring to Mrs. Karenina. ‘Her husband put her into the compartment with me and I was very pleased. We talked all the way. And you I hear … vous filez le parfait amour. Tant mieux, mon cher, tant mieux [you carry on the perfect love. So much the better, my dear].’

      ‘I don’t know what you mean, maman,’ the son replied coldly. ‘Well, shall we go?’

      Mrs. Karenina again entered the carriage to take leave of the Countess.

      ‘There, Countess, you have met your son and I my brother,’ she said, ‘and I have exhausted my stock of stories and should have had nothing more to tell you.’

      ‘No, no,’ said the Countess holding her hand, ‘I could travel round the world with you and not be dull. You are one of those charming women with whom it is nice to talk, and nice to be silent. But please don’t fret about your son, you can’t expect never to be parted.’

      Mrs. Karenina stood very erect and her eyes were smiling.

      ‘Anna Arkadyevna Karenina has a son who, I think, is eight years old,’ explained the Countess, ‘and she has never before been separated from him and so she is worried at having left him.’

      ‘Yes, the Countess and I have talked all the time — I about my son and she about hers,’ said Mrs. Karenina, and a smile brightened her face, a kind smile on his account.

      ‘I expect you got very weary of it,’ he said, quickly seizing in its flight the bail of coquetry she had thrown at him. But she evidently did not wish to continue the conversation in that tone, and turned to the old Countess.

      ‘Thank you very much. I hardly noticed how the time passed. Au revoir, Countess.’

      ‘Goodbye, dear!’ answered the Countess. ‘Let me kiss your pretty face. I’m an old woman and say what I mean, and tell you frankly that I’ve lost my heart to you.’

      Conventional as the phrase was, Mrs. Karenina evidently believed it and was pleased. She blushed, stooped a little, and held out her face for the Countess to kiss, then she stood up again, and with the same smile hovering between her lips and eyes held out her hand to Vronsky. He pressed the little hand, and the firm grip with which she shook his gave him unusual pleasure. She went out with that brisk tread which carried her rather full figure with such wonderful ease.

      ‘Very charming,’ said the old lady.

      Her son thought so too. He followed her with his eyes as long as he could see her graceful form, and his face retained its smile. Through the carriage window he saw her approach her brother and speak to him with animation about something that evidently had no connection with him, Vronsky, and that seemed to him provoking.

      ‘Well, maman, are you quite well?’ he said, turning toward his mother.

      ‘Quite, everything is all right. Alexander was very nice, and Varya looks very handsome. She is most interesting.’

      And she began to tell about what interested her most, her grandson’s christening, for which she had gone to Petersburg, and the special favour the Emperor had shown to her eldest son.

      ‘Here is Lavrenty at last,’ said Vronsky looking out of the window. ‘We can go now if you like.’

      The old major-domo, who had accompanied the Countess on her journey, came in and announced that everything was ready, and the Countess rose to go.

      ‘Come, there is not much of a crowd now,’ said Vronsky.

      The maid took one bag and the little dog, the major-domo and the porter took the other bags. Vronsky gave his arm to his mother, but, just as they were coming out of the carriage, several people ran past them with frightened faces. The station-master with his peculiar coloured cap also ran past them.

      Evidently something unusual had happened. The people were running back from the train.

      ‘What? … What? … Where? … Thrown himself under … Run over …’ shouted the passers-by.

      Oblonsky, with his sister on his arm, also turned back, and, avoiding the crowd, stood with frightened faces beside the carriage. The ladies re-entered the carriage, while Vronsky and Oblonsky followed the crowd, to find out about the accident.

      A watchman, either tipsy or too much muffled up because of the severe frost, had not heard a train that was being shunted, and had been run over.

      Before Vronsky and Oblonsky returned the ladies had heard this from the major-domo.

      Oblonsky and Vronsky had both seen the mangled corpse. Oblonsky was evidently suffering. His face was puckered and he seemed ready to cry.

      ‘Ah, how terrible! Oh Anna, if you had seen it! Ah, how terrible!’ he kept saying.

      Vronsky remained silent. His handsome face was serious but perfectly calm.

      ‘Oh, if you had seen it, Countess,’ said Oblonsky. ‘And his wife was there… . It was dreadful to see her. She threw herself on the body. They say he was the sole support of a very large family. It is terrible!’

      ‘Can

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