"Ah, by the way, a splendid young fellow has asked leave to go,
and they've made some difficulty, I don't know why. I meant to
ask you; I know him; please write a note about his case. He's
being sent by Countess Lidia Ivanovna."

Sergey Ivanovitch asked for all the details the princess knew
about the young man, and going into the first-class waiting-room,
wrote a note to the person on whom the granting of leave of
absence depended, and handed it to the princess.

"You know Count Vronsky, the notorious one...is going by this
train?" said the princess with a smile full of triumph and
meaning, when he found her again and gave her the letter.

"I had heard he was going, but I did not know when. By this
train?"

"I've seen him. He's here: there's only his mother seeing him
off. It's the best thing, anyway, that he could do."

"Oh, yes, of course."

While they were talking the crowd streamed by them into the
dining room. They went forward too, and heard a gentleman with a
glass in his hand delivering a loud discourse to the volunteers.
"In the service of religion, humanity, and our brothers," the
gentleman said, his voice growing louder and louder; "to this
great cause mother Moscow dedicates you with her blessing.
_Jivio!_" he concluded, loudly and tearfully.