Dinner at Vronsky's, and a letter

The new Marshal and the victors dine at Vronsky's. He had come to the elections out of dullness, to proclaim his right to freedom to Anna, to repay Sviyazhsky, and to do his duty as a landowner — and had not expected to be gripped by it or to be so good at it. His wealth, his title, the financier's borrowed house, his chef and his easy manner with everyone have made him a success, and he reckons that every nobleman he met has become his partisan, except the crazy fellow married to Kitty Shcherbatsky. He now thinks that if he were married by the next election he might stand himself, as a man who has won with a jockey wants to ride. Healths are drunk, Sviyazhsky mimics the old Marshal's tears, Oblonsky wires Dolly at the cost of a rouble she sighs over. Then the valet brings a letter from Vozdvizhensk: Annie may have inflammation, Anna loses her head alone, and she wished to come herself. The innocent mirth and the burdensome love strike him by their contrast; he takes the night train.

Vronsky is genuinely good at this and genuinely enjoying it, which is what makes the letter fatal: Tolstoy needs the six days to have been a success before Anna interrupts them. 'Our Provincial Marshal' savoured like a new wife's married name is the sharpest line in the elections. The word Vronsky reaches for is burdensome, and he reaches for it before he has read her out.