Sergey Ivanovitch asked for all the details the princess knew
about the young man, and going into the first-class waiting-room,
wrote a note to the person on whom the granting of leave of
absence depended, and handed it to the princess.
"You know Count Vronsky, the notorious one...is going by this
train?" said the princess with a smile full of triumph and
meaning, when he found her again and gave her the letter.
"I had heard he was going, but I did not know when. By this
"I've seen him. He's here: there's only his mother seeing him
off. It's the best thing, anyway, that he could do."
"Oh, yes, of course."
While they were talking the crowd streamed by them into the
dining room. They went forward too, and heard a gentleman with a
glass in his hand delivering a loud discourse to the volunteers.
"In the service of religion, humanity, and our brothers," the
gentleman said, his voice growing louder and louder; "to this
great cause mother Moscow dedicates you with her blessing.
Jivio!" he concluded, loudly and tearfully.
Everyone shouted Jivio! and a fresh crowd dashed into the hall,
almost carrying the princess off her legs.
"Ah, princess! that was something like!" said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, suddenly appearing in the middle of the crowd and
beaming upon them with a delighted smile. "Capitally, warmly
said, wasn't it? Bravo! And Sergey Ivanovitch! Why, you ought
to have said something--just a few words, you know, to encourage
them; you do that so well," he added with a soft, respectful, and
discreet smile, moving Sergey Ivanovitch forward a little by the
"No, I'm just off."
"To the country, to my brother's," answered Sergey Ivanovitch.