Upon the news, Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky, hectically taken from bed by his wife and in a slight stupor from sleep deprivation, refused at first to believe it. Still, should the news be true, he quickly dressed himself in a somewhat ill fashion manner and projected himself from bed in an attempt to make sense of the world around him now. Awake in motion Stiva could make more sense of the words he heard rather than associating them with any common annoyance at night.
Dolly, who was at a loss for word herself upon hearing the news, and indeed unprepared herself for the events to follow, made an effort to rationally explain the situation to Stiva, but, in the process of protecting her own mental stability, was doomed onto tears so that reality could not enter her. Realizing how difficult the situation had become, Stiva took Dolly by the hand and, hiding his somewhat appalled tendency towards his wife's actions, guided her down the stairs to the foyer, where she had suggested a man had come to tell of the recent death of his sister Anna Karenina.
Sure enough, a man did now wait in the awkward space of the foyer entrance and the front door exit, where Stiva assumed enough that Dolly had answered man and became flabbergasted as to the correct procedure of events and thus, in a hectic manner, did not fully instruct the man as to where to go and left him without direction while attending to the first person she could think to help her; her husband. What black comedy, thought Oblonsky.
Over the time the man, a railroad conductor and director of local transit, spoke to him Oblonsky realized that yes, everything he heard in his stupor was the truth; his sister Anna was no more. She had died untimely under the tracks of the six o'clock, and her body was just recently found. Stepan considered his options, which were stuck between grieving and taking action. With the state of things and the conductors somewhat pushy hinting that immediate reparations must take place (and Oblonsky was reminded of the last incident in which a peasant found their end at the rail road station), Oblonsky informed the conductor that he would proceed immediately to the station. He informed his coachman to prepare the carriage, and wrote four letters immediately. One letter was to a friend to kindly at their expense oversee Dolly, who in her current state could not accompany Stiva to see more death. The next three letters were to inform the necessary parties of the event. One was to Kitty and Levin, another to Alexei Alexandrovich, and the last, to which the shakiest hand, knowing how irrational the situation would become at this man's knowledge, wrote, to the infamous Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky.
----
There was an immense amount of racket between the horses stomping, the carriages rolling in mud, the soldiers marching, and the men hollering, but none of it could break the intense meditation which Alexei Kirillovich now found himself in, which he had not attained sense his pure happiness on the way to visit Anna. Yes, he was once happy to think of how perfect he envisioned his life. Now after Anna's death he still fantasized with a smile on his face which, unbeknownst to others who saw him as the great social leader who had outfitted an entire squadron for war that, although his thoughts surrounded his never ending admiration for Anna Karenina, he was now happy to accompany these thoughts with how he would end his life. In Anna's death Vronsky foresaw no reason to continue living and from there all reason to die had become sound, to re-accompany him with Anna in some shape or form, be it in a physical aberration of thought or a mental institution of insanity.
Vronsky was so enmeshed in his conclusions he hardly noticed the man at the side of his horse beckoning for his attention.
"Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky?" asked the man below him, "Is that you? Pleased to meet you! I'm glad I can finally get a word in with you! My name is Mischechka Vovkaovich Sidorov. I was one of the men you helped outfit for this war!"
"Oh—nice to meet you," said Vronsky, bending down from atop his horse to give a proper handshake. He did now, however, bother with eye contact. Mischechka was not put off and merely saw Vronsky as an attentive leader. He continued talking, more or less shouting over everyone else's clamor.
"I wanted to thank you personally for providing so much for me! You must be very anxious about helping out your fellow Slavs!"
"Oh – yes, I am," answered Vronsky, who was only half concentrated on the conversation.
"I think a lot of us…you know, down here…were worried there wouldn't be much support for helping out the Serbs where you are, you know? A lot of people we thought would be saying how silly this war was going to be. I think a lot of people are saying bad things about the government, saying weird lies about how the government doesn't really care about the outcome of this war. I say shame on them! But I know you aren't like them, with all you've done, Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky! Russia needs more men like you!"
Vronsky laughed. "Another man once told me the very same thing," he said. Vronsky reflected on the last time he was told this, and had laughed because the two very different meanings in each time served.
"Well that man was wise to say so! I'm sure you would know just which way to guide Russia to success! You know a lot of people I've heard about don't even consider the church to be right! Imagine that! I may one day disagree with Russian policy, but I will never take the lord's name in vain so simply!"
Vronsky smiled at this comment and leaned down to speak more clearly with Mischechka. "May I tell you something Mischechka?" Vronsky asked, ignoring customs again.
Mischechka, who could not be offended in any way by a man he put on such a high pedestal, agreed to hear anything.
"Put aside religion on the battlefield," began Vronsky, "It will do you no good in the final fight. I'm not saying to forget God, oh no. I understand how important he is. However, when you stand in the midst of a battle, you mustn't remember anything but war. Don't think about god, about home, about government, or about why. Just remember you are fighting, and that's all you will need to know."
Mischechka, perplexed by Vronsky's words but afraid to show it, nodded and thanked Vronsky for his wisdom and moved on before having to confront another conversation he did not fully understand. With the man gone Vronsky now relaxed and listened to the incessant boring noise of peasants arguing over arguments they barely understood.
"What have you heard about this Black George character?" one peasant said.
"Sounds like a good leader. He's really helping the Serbs gain their freedom back!" another peasant said.
"Well with our help they can finally get back Belgrade!" another peasant said…
----
Vronsky lay, mercilessly shot, upon the ground of Serbian territory. He was injured much worse than he had ever felt before. Death was not coming to him fast as he had wished for, but instead, agonizingly slow. A sloppy gun man, only looking to disrupt danger and not end it, had shot Vronsky enough times to keep him alive. Vronsky knew nothing now but his pain. He no longer knew that he loved a woman, or once did. He doubted everything. He wondered if Anna had doubt death to. Did she wonder, he thought, in her moments before death, as I do for hours now, whether death was worth it? Did she wonder if she would stay alive for me, as I now wonder if I want to die for her?
----
Vronsky, having no other choice, finally made confrontation with his mother. He told her of the recent events in his life, and soon enough she found out that Anna was no more. Vronskaya shook her head upon this knowledge and, in accompaniment, grinned in the most sinister way to think of a woman grinning.
"You know I could not be happier!" stated the countess, "what good did Anna do you but remove your class and spoil your name? I ask you again whatever you saw in that woman?"
Vronskaya ignored her own hypocrisy in order to take advantage over her son in his weakened state. Without waiting for his answer, as Vronsky would give none anyway, finding himself at a loss for conversation, she continued without hesitation. "Now, no one can diminish your name via association with such a wicked woman—"
Vronsky cut off the countess, "Do you remember what I told you before, when you had Alexander send me notice of your disapproval, without even any formal meeting, or informal as a mother might, to address me with your own concerns?" His voice was brash, not questioning but telling his mother the past he was not sure if she remembered.
The countess, at this subtle insult to her, put on an unwelcoming face, a straight lipped frown, elongated her features with flat cheeks, and addressed her son in a like monotone, "Yes…what of it?"
"Do you remember my reply?" he asked, unfettered of his strict voice by her change in character.
"Yes," she said, "So you still feel that way?"
"Without doubt."
"I see – well! It doesn't matter to me anymore…" she replied to him coldly, "At least I don't have to worry about your image in society!"
Vronsky, taking a moment to accept his mother's terms, came to and left the household abruptly, but not before mentioning in a murmur, "It means nothing to me either. It all means nothing now."
----
A triage officer, followed by two soldiers, weary from witnessing battle for the first time, acting as a cleanup crew, inspected each of the bodies that lay on the earth, looking for survivors, and leaving the dead to rot. Each time a scream appeared in the air, the three would run over the hills only to find another pile of bodies with no likely hood of survival.
"There's another nasty sounding gurgle over there!" shouted one of the soldiers. And again, the three ran over the hills to find it was too late. There lay Vronsky dead, bullet after bullet summing up his last hours alive.
"What a poor man. I know him," said the triage officer, "Count Alexi Kirillovich Vronsky. I saw him at one of the races. He never did well with losing. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear that we did win."
"I hope he has someone waiting for him on the other side," said one of the soldiers.
The officer looked at Vronsky's face.
"…I couldn't tell you for sure…but I don't think he could tell you either."