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
arm.
"No, I'm just off."
"Where to?"
"To the country, to my brother's," answered Sergey Ivanovitch.
"Then you'll see my wife. I've written to her, but you'll see
her first. Please tell her that they've seen me and that it's
'all right,' as the English say. She'll understand. Oh, and be
so good as to tell her I'm appointed secretary of the
committee.... But she'll understand! You know, _les petites
misères de la vie humaine,_" he said, as it were apologizing to
the princess. "And Princess Myakaya--not Liza, but Bibish--is
sending a thousand guns and twelve nurses. Did I tell you?"
"Yes, I heard so," answered Koznishev indifferently.
"It's a pity you're going away," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"Tomorrow we're giving a dinner to two who're setting off--
Dimer-Bartnyansky from Petersburg and our Veslovsky, Grisha.
They're both going. Veslovsky's only lately married. There's a
fine fellow for you! Eh, princess?" he turned to the lady.
The princess looked at Koznishev without replying. But the fact
that Sergey Ivanovitch and the princess seemed anxious to get rid
of him did not in the least disconcert Stepan Arkadyevitch.
Smiling, he stared at the feather in the princess's hat, and then
about him as though he were going to pick something up. Seeing a
lady approaching with a collecting box, he beckoned her up and
put in a five-rouble note.
"I can never see these collecting boxes unmoved while I've money
in my pocket," he said. "And how about today's telegram? Fine
chaps those Montenegrins!"
"You don't say so!" he cried, when the princess told him that
Vronsky was going by this train. For an instant Stepan
Arkadyevitch's face looked sad, but a minute later, when,
stroking his mustaches and swinging as he walked, he went into
the hall where Vronsky was, he had completely forgotten his own
despairing sobs over his sister's corpse, and he saw in Vronsky
only a hero and an old friend.