ing before he had felt for his old friend, and now experiencing the same sympathy for Vronsky. "Yes, there was a reason why he should have been either very happy or very unhappy."
Vronsky stopped short, and asked point-blank:—
"What was it? Do you mean that he proposed yesterday evening to your sister-in-law?"
"Possibly," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Something like that seemed probable last evening. Yes, if he went off so early, and was in such bad spirits, then it is so. .... He has been in love with her for so long, and I am very sorry for him."
"Ah, indeed! .... I thought that she might, however, have aspirations for a better match," said Vronsky, and, filling out his chest, he began to walk up and down again. Then he added: "However, I don't know him; yes, this promises to be a painful situation. That is why the majority of men prefer to consort with their Claras. There, lack of success shows that you have n't money enough; but here you stand on your own merits. But here is the train."
In fact, the engine was now whistling some distance away. But in a few minutes the platform shook, and the locomotive, puffing out the steam condensed by the cold air, came rolling into the station, with the lever of the central wheel slowly and rhythmically rising and falling, and the engineer well muffled and covered with frost. Next the tender came the baggage-car, still more violently shaking the platform; a dog in its cage was yelping piteously; finally appeared the passenger-cars, which jolted together as the train came to a stop.
The vigorous-looking conductor sprang down from the car and whistled; and behind him came the more impatient of the travelers,—an officer of the Guard, straight and imperious, a nimble little merchant, gayly smiling, with his gripsack, and a muzhik, with his bundle over his shoulder.
Vronsky, standing near Oblonsky, watched the cars and the passengers, and completely forgot his mother. What he had just heard about Kitty caused him emotion
