"And here is Lavronty," said Vronsky, looking out of the window. "Now let us go, if you are ready."
The old steward who had come with the countess now appeared at the door to report that everything was ready, and she arose to go.
"Come, there are only a few people about now," said Vronsky.
The maid took the bag and the little dog; the steward and a porter carried the other luggage; Vronsky offered his mother his arm, but, just as they stepped down from the carriage, a number of men with frightened faces ran hastily by them. The station-master followed in his curiously colored furazhka or uniform-cap. Evidently something unusual had happened. The people who had left the train were coming back again.
"What is it?" .... "What is it?" .... "Where?" .... "He was thrown down!" .... "He was crushed to death!" were the exclamations heard among those hurrying by.
Stepan Arkadyevitch with his sister on his arm had returned with the others, and were standing with frightened faces near the train to avoid the crush.
The ladies went back into the carriage, and Vronsky with Stepan Arkadyevitch went with the crowd to learn the particulars of the accident.
A train-hand, either from drunkenness, or because he was too closely muffled against the intense cold, had not heard the noise of a train that was backing out, and had been crushed.
The ladies had already learned about the accident from the steward before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back. Both of them had seen the disfigured body. Oblonsky was deeply moved; he frowned, and seemed ready to shed tears.
"Akh, how horrible! Akh, Anna, if you had only seen it! Akh, how horrible!" he repeated.
Vronsky said nothing; his handsome face was serious, but perfectly calm.
"Akh, if you had only seen it, countess!" continued Stepan Arkadyevitch,—"and his wife is there. .... It was terrible to see her .... she threw herself on his body.
