Vronsky puts the revolver to his chest

Vronsky stands on the porch unable to remember where he should go. The roles have exchanged: the deceived husband he had thought a ridiculous obstacle turns out kind, simple and dignified, and he himself mean and trivial. Worse, his passion, which he had thought cooling, is stronger now that she is lost; during her illness he came to know her and feels he never loved her before. Worst of all is the figure he cut with his hands being pulled from his face. Home after three sleepless nights he lies prone and cannot sleep: Karenin's 'you may trample me in the mud', Anna's eyes going past him, his own stupid shame-suffused face. He hears himself whispering 'unable to value, unable to enjoy' and asks whether he is going mad — and what else makes men shoot themselves. His thoughts circle three times to the same 'Of course!', and he puts the revolver to the left side of his chest. He does not hear the shot. His servant runs for help; Varya comes with three doctors and stays to nurse him.

Tolstoy insists the decision was not reasoned: the convinced 'Of course!' is named as the product of a circle of memories gone round dozens of times. What drives Vronsky to it is shame at his own face rather than grief, which keeps him consistent to the end. The comedy of the curved table legs and the tiger-skin, seen from the floor, refuses the scene any grandeur.