“Here’s Lavrenty,” said Vronsky, looking out of the window; “now we can go, if you like.”

The old butler who had traveled with the countess, came to the carriage to announce that everything was ready, and the countess got up to go.

“Come; there’s not such a crowd now,” said Vronsky.

The maid took a handbag and the lap dog, the butler and a porter the other baggage.  Vronsky gave his mother his arm; but just as they were getting out of the carriage several men ran suddenly by with panic-stricken faces.  The station-master, too, ran by in his extraordinary colored cap.  Obviously something unusual had happened.  The crowd who had left the train were running back again.

“What?...  What?...  Where?...  Flung himself!...  Crushed!...” was heard among the crowd.  Stepan Arkadyevitch, with his sister on his arm, turned back.  They too looked scared, and stopped at the carriage door to avoid the crowd.

The ladies got in, while Vronsky and Stepan Arkadyevitch followed the crowd to find out details of the disaster.

A guard, either drunk or too much muffled up in the bitter frost, had not heard the train moving back, and had been crushed.

Before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back the ladies heard the facts from the butler.

Oblonsky and Vronsky had both seen the mutilated corpse.  Oblonsky was evidently upset.  He frowned and seemed ready to cry.

“Ah, how awful!  Ah, Anna, if you had seen it!  Ah, how awful!” he said.

Vronsky did not speak; his handsome face was serious, but perfectly composed.

“Oh, if you had seen it, countess,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch.  “And his wife was there....  It was awful to see her!....  She flung herself on the body.  They say he was the only support of an immense family.  How awful!”

“Couldn’t one do anything for her?” said Madame Karenina in an agitated whisper.

Vronsky glanced at her, and immediately got out of the carriage.

“I’ll be back directly, maman,” he remarked, turning round in the doorway.

When he came back a few minutes later, Stepan Arkadyevitch was already in conversation with the countess about the new singer, while the countess was impatiently looking towards the door, waiting for her son.

“Now let us be off,” said Vronsky, coming in.  They went out together.  Vronsky was in front with his mother.  Behind walked Madame Karenina with her brother.  Just as they were going out of the station the station-master overtook Vronsky.

“You gave my assistant two hundred roubles.  Would you kindly explain for whose benefit you intend them?”

“For the widow,” said Vronsky, shrugging his shoulders.  “I should have thought there was no need to ask.”

“You gave that?” cried Oblonsky, behind, and, pressing his sister’s hand, he added:  “Very nice, very nice!  Isn’t he a splendid fellow?  Good-bye, countess.”