Vronsky and Anna had been traveling for three months together in

Europe. They had visited Venice, Rome, and Naples, and had just

arrived at a small Italian town where they meant to stay some

time. A handsome head waiter, with thick pomaded hair parted

from the neck upwards, an evening coat, a broad white cambric

shirt front, and a bunch of trinkets hanging above his rounded

stomach, stood with his hands in the full curve of his pockets,

looking contemptuously from under his eyelids while he gave some

frigid reply to a gentleman who had stopped him. Catching the

sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the entry

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towards the staircase, the head waiter turned round, and seeing

the Russian count, who had taken their best rooms, he took his

hands out of his pockets deferentially, and with a bow informed

him that a courier had been, and that the business about the

palazzo had been arranged. The steward was prepared to sign the

agreement.

"Ah! I'm glad to hear it," said Vronsky. "Is madame at home or

not?"

"Madame has been out for a walk but has returned now," answered

the waiter.

Vronsky took off his soft, wide-brimmed hat and passed his

handkerchief over his heated brow and hair, which had grown half

over his ears, and was brushed back covering the bald patch on

his head. And glancing casually at the gentleman, who still

stood there gazing intently at him, he would have gone on.

"This gentleman is a Russian, and was inquiring after you," said

the head waiter.

With mingled feelings of annoyance at never being able to get

away from acquaintances anywhere, and longing to find some sort

of diversion from the monotony of his life, Vronsky looked once

more at the gentleman, who had retreated and stood still again,

and at the same moment a light came into the eyes of both.

"Golenishtchev!"

"Vronsky!"

It really was Golenishtchev, a comrade of Vronsky's in the Corps

of Pages. In the corps Golenishtchev had belonged to the liberal

party; he left the corps without entering the army, and had never

taken office under the government. Vronsky and he had gone

completely different ways on leaving the corps, and had only met

once since.

At that meeting Vronsky perceived that Golenishtchev had taken up

a sort of lofty, intellectually liberal line, and was

consequently disposed to look down upon Vronsky's interests and

calling in life. Hence Vronsky had met him with the chilling and

haughty manner he so well knew how to assume, the meaning of

which was: "You may like or dislike my way of life, that's a

matter of the most perfect indifference to me; you will have to

treat me with respect if you want to know me." Golenishtchev had

been contemptuously indifferent to the tone taken by Vronsky.

This second meeting might have been expected, one would have

supposed, to estrange them still more. But now they beamed and

exclaimed with delight on recognizing one another. Vronsky would

never have expected to be so pleased to see Golenishtchev, but

probably he was not himself aware how bored he was. He forgot

the disagreeable impression of their last meeting, and with a

face of frank delight held out his hand to his old comrade. The

same expression of delight replaced the look of uneasiness on

Golenishtchev's face.




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