Vronsky walks up and down the platform in his long overcoat, slouched over with his hands stuck in his pockets. He is pacing like a “wild beast in a cage” and pretends not to notice Sergey Ivanovitch when he approaches; that does not deter him in the least from speaking to Vronsky. In that moment he sees Vronsky as a noble man willing to fight for a cause, and he considers it his duty to show his appreciation and to encourage him. When he approaches Vronsky, the pacing man stands still long enough to recognize Sergey Ivanovitch and steps forward to greet him warmly.

Vronsky says there is no one he would “less dislike seeing” than Sergey Ivanovitch; it is the best he can say, since there is nothing now in life for him to like. Sergey Ivanovitch understands, seeing the man’s face full of unmistakable suffering, and offers to write a letter of introduction for him to King Milan. Vronsky is not in the least interested, for there is no need for a letter of introduction to meet death.

Sergey Ivanovitch thanks him for his willingness to serve, noting that when a man of his stature volunteers, he raises the public estimation of all volunteers. Vronsky dismisses the praise, glad that there is something for which to give his life, as it is now loathsome and useless to him. Vronsky has a gnawing toothache which prevents him from even speaking with his natural expression, adding to his misery. Sergey Ivanovitch predicts he will find something noble and worth living for when he is able to deliver his fellow men from bondage.

Vronsky can hardly speak due to the pain in his mouth, but as he watches the coal car running smoothly on the tracks, a new, internal pain causes him great anguish. Seeing the car on the tracks and talking with a friend whom he had not seen since the incident both remind him of Anna Karenina—or what was left of her when he saw her lying on a table in the train station cloak room. He had looked at her still-beautiful face, and in his anguish her open eyes seemed to be speaking that fearful phrase she had said to him so often when they were quarreling: he would be sorry.

Now he tries to think of Anna Karenina as she was when he first met her, also at a train station, and attempts to recall his best moments with her. But everything about her is forever poisoned for him; he can “only think of her as triumphant, successful in her menace of a wholly useless remorse never to be effaced.” Forgetting his toothache, Vronsky doubles over and sobs at the pain of that realization.

After walking the platform several times, Vronsky regains his composure and talks calmly with Sergey Ivanovitch about the decisive engagement with the Turks which is anticipated for tomorrow. Soon the bell rings and the men part, each going to his own compartment.