Part Eight: Chapter 5

by Leo Tolstoy

　　In the slanting evening shadows cast by the baggage piled up onthe platform, Vronsky in his long overcoat and slouch hat, withhis hands in his pockets, strode up and down, like a wild beastin a cage, turning sharply after twenty paces. Sergey Ivanovitchfancied, as he approached him, that Vronsky saw him but waspretending not to see. This did not affect Sergey Ivanovitch inthe slightest. He was above all personal considerations withVronsky.

　　At that moment Sergey Ivanovitch looked upon Vronsky as a mantaking an important part in a great cause, and Koznishev thoughtit his duty to encourage him and express his approval. He wentup to him.

　　Vronsky stood still, looked intently at him, recognized him, andgoing a few steps forward to meet him, shook hands with him verywarmly.

　　"Possibly you didn't wish to see me," said Sergey Ivanovitch,"but couldn't I be of use to you?"

　　"There's no one I should less dislike seeing than you," saidVronsky. "Excuse me; and there's nothing in life for me tolike."

　　"I quite understand, and I merely meant to offer you myservices," said Sergey Ivanovitch, scanning Vronsky's face, fullof unmistakable suffering. "Wouldn't it be of use to you to havea letter to Ristitch--to Milan?"

　　"Oh, no!" Vronsky said, seeming to understand him withdifficulty. "If you don't mind, let's walk on. It's so stuffyamong the carriages. A letter? No, thank you; to meet death oneneeds no letters of introduction. Nor for the Turks..." he said,with a smile that was merely of the lips. His eyes still kepttheir look of angry suffering.

　　"Yes; but you might find it easier to get into relations, whichare after all essential, with anyone prepared to see you. Butthat's as you like. I was very glad to hear of your intention.There have been so many attacks made on the volunteers, and a manlike you raises them in public estimation."

　　"My use as a man," said Vronsky, "is that life's worth nothing tome. And that I've enough bodily energy to cut my way into theirranks, and to trample on them or fall--I know that. I'm gladthere's something to give my life for, for it's not simplyuseless but loathsome to me. Anyone's welcome to it." And hisjaw twitched impatiently from the incessant gnawing toothache,that prevented him from even speaking with a natural expression.

　　"You will become another man, I predict," said SergeyIvanovitch, feeling touched. "To deliver one's brother-men frombondage is an aim worth death and life. God grant you successoutwardly--and inwardly peace," he added, and he held out hishand. Vronsky warmly pressed his outstretched hand.

　　"Yes, as a weapon I may be of some use. But as a man, I'm awreck," he jerked out.

　　He could hardly speak for the throbbing ache in his strong teeth,that were like rows of ivory in his mouth. He was silent, andhis eyes rested on the wheels of the tender, slowly and smoothlyrolling along the rails.

　　And all at once a different pain, not an ache, but an innertrouble, that set his whole being in anguish, made him for aninstant forget his toothache. As he glanced at the tender andthe rails, under the influence of the conversation with a friendhe had not met since his misfortune, he suddenly recalledher--that is, what was left of her when he had run like onedistraught into the cloak room of the railway station--on thetable, shamelessly sprawling out among strangers, thebloodstained body so lately full of life; the head unhurtdropping back with its weight of hair, and the curling tressesabout the temples, and the exquisite face, with red, half-openedmouth, the strange, fixed expression, piteous on the lips andawful in the still open eyes, that seemed to utter that fearfulphrase--that he would be sorry for it--that she had said whenthey were quarreling.

　　And he tried to think of her as she was when he met her the firsttime, at a railway station too, mysterious, exquisite, loving,seeking and giving happiness, and not cruelly revengeful as heremembered her on that last moment. He tried to recall his bestmoments with her, but those moments were poisoned forever. Hecould only think of her as triumphant, successful in her menaceof a wholly useless remorse never to be effaced. He lost allconsciousness of toothache, and his face worked with sobs.

　　Passing twice up and down beside the baggage in silence andregaining his self-possession, he addressed Sergey Ivanovitchcalmly:

　　"You have had no telegrams since yesterday's? Yes, driven backfor a third time, but a decisive engagement expected fortomorrow."

　　And after talking a little more of King Milan's proclamation, andthe immense effect it might have, they parted, going to theircarriages on hearing the second bell.