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above the perspiring horses, and having roused the coachman jumped into the calèche and told him to drive to Bryansky’s. Only after going some five miles did he recollect himself sufficiently to look at his watch and to realize that it was already half-past five, and that he was late.

      There were to be several races that day: a Life-Guards’ race, then an officers’ two-verst race, a four-verst race, and then the one for which he had entered. He could be in time for his own race, but, if he called on Bryansky first, he could only just manage it, and the whole Court would already be at the racecourse. That was not the correct thing to do. But he had promised Bryansky to call and therefore he decided to go on, telling the coachman not to spare the horses.

      He saw Bryansky, stayed with him five minutes, and drove back at a gallop. This quick drive soothed him. All that was depressing in his relations with Anna, the indefiniteness that remained after their conversation, escaped from his mind. He now thought with enjoyment and agitation of the race, and that after all he would be there in time, and occasionally the expectation of that night’s meeting flashed brightly in his imagination.

      The spirit of the coming races overcame him more and more as he drove further and further into their atmosphere and overtook carriages making their way to the course from Petersburg and from outlying country places.

      When he reached his quarters he found no one there — they had all gone to the races and his valet was waiting at the gate. While he was changing his things, the valet told him that the second race had already begun and that many gentlemen had been to inquire for him, and a lad had run over twice from the stables.

      Having changed without hurrying (he never hurried or lost his self-control), Vronsky ordered the coachman to drive him to the stables. From there he could see the sea of carriages, pedestrians, and soldiers surrounding the racecourse, and the stands, which were thronged with people. Probably the second race was just taking place, for as he entered the stables he heard the bell ring. On his way he met Makhotin’s white-legged chestnut Gladiator, which in a blue-bordered orange covering, with his ears looking enormous in their blue-trimmed cloth, was being led to the course.

      ‘Where is Cord?’ he asked the groom.

      ‘In the stables, saddling.’

      In her open box Frou-Frou stood ready saddled. They were just going to lead her out.

      ‘I am not late?’

      ‘All right! all right!’ answered the Englishman. ‘Don’t upset yourself.’

      Vronsky once again glanced at the beautiful fascinating shape of the mare, whose whole body was trembling, and tearing himself with difficulty from this sight he left the shed. He came toward the pavilions at the very best time to avoid attracting anyone’s attention. The two-verst race was nearly over, and all eyes were fixed on an officer of the horse-guards in front and on a hussar officer behind, who were urging their horses to the last limits of their strength as they neared the winning-post. From within and without the ring every one was crowding toward the winning-post, and a group of horse-guards, — officers and men, — with loud shouts were expressing their joy at the expected triumph of their officer and comrade. Vronsky joined the crowd unnoticed, almost at the moment that the bell rang to announce the end of the race, and the tall officer of the horse-guards all bespattered with mud, who had come in first, was bending down in his saddle, loosening the reins of his grey gelding, which was dark with perspiration and panting heavily.

      The gelding, planting its feet with effort, reduced the speed of its enormous body, and the guards’ officer, like one waking from deep sleep, looked round and forced himself to smile. A crowd of friends and strangers surrounded him.

      Vronsky purposely avoided the select and fashionable crowd which moved and chatted with restrained freedom in front of the pavilions. He ascertained that Anna, Betsy, and his brother’s wife were there, but in order not to agitate himself, intentionally avoided going near them. But he continually met acquaintances who stopped him, told him about the races that had been run, and asked him why he was so late.

      When the winners were called up to the pavilion to receive their prizes and every one was looking that way, Vronsky’s elder brother, Alexander, a colonel with shoulder knots, of medium height, as sturdy as Alexis but handsomer and ruddier, with a red nose and a drunken though open countenance, came up to him.

      ‘Did you get my note?’ he asked. ‘One can never find you.’

      Alexander Vronsky, despite the loose and, in particular, drunken life for which he was noted, was quite a courtier.

      While speaking to his brother of a matter very unpleasant to him he, knowing that many eyes might be fixed on them, wore a smiling expression, as if he were joking with him about some unimportant matter.

      ‘I received it, but really do not understand what you are worrying about,’ replied Alexis.

      ‘I am worrying because people have just remarked to me that you were not here and that you were seen in Peterhof last Monday.’

      ‘There are things which should be discussed only by those who are directly interested, and the matter you are concerning yourself about is one …’

      ‘Yes, but then one should not be in the army, or …’

      ‘I beg you not to interfere, that is all.’

      Alexis Vronsky’s frowning face turned pale, and his prominent lower jaw twitched, a thing that rarely happened to him. Being a very kind-hearted man he seldom got angry, but when he did, and when his chin twitched, then he was dangerous, as Alexander Vronsky knew. Alexander smiled gaily.

      ‘I only wanted to deliver mother’s letter. Answer her, and don’t upset yourself before the race. Bonne chance!’ he added smiling and went away.

      But just then another friendly greeting stopped Vronsky.

      ‘Won’t you recognize your friends? How do you do, mon cher?’ said Oblonsky, shining here, amid all this Petersburg brilliancy, no less than he shone in Moscow, with his rosy face and glistening, well-brushed whiskers. ‘I came yesterday and am very glad that I shall witness your triumph. When can we meet?’

      ‘Come to the mess-room to-morrow,’ said Vronsky, and apologetically pressing the sleeve of Oblonsky’s overcoat, he went to the centre of the racecourse where the horses were already being led out for the steeplechase.

      The perspiring, exhausted horses which had raced were being led away by their grooms, and one by one the fresh ones for the next race were appearing, most of them English horses, which in their hooded coverings and with their tightly-girthed stomachs looked like strange gigantic birds. To the right the slender and beautiful Frou-Frou was being led up and down, stepping as on springs with her rather long elastic pasterns. Not far from her they were taking the horsecloth off the big-eared Gladiator. The large, beautiful, perfectly regular shape of the horse with his wonderful hindquarters and his exceptionally short pasterns just above his hoofs, involuntarily arrested Vronsky’s attention. He wished to go up to his own horse, but was again stopped by an acquaintance.

      ‘Ah, there is Karenin!’ said the acquaintance with whom he was talking. ‘He is looking for his wife, and she is in the centre of the pavilion. Have you not seen her?’

      ‘No, I have not,’ said Vronsky, and without even glancing at the pavilion where Anna was pointed out to him, he went to his horse.

      He had not had time to examine the saddle, about which he wished to give some directions, when the riders were summoned to the pavilion to draw their numbers and places. With serious, stern, and in many cases pale faces, seventeen officers assembled at the pavilion and drew their numbers. Vronsky got number seven. The order was given: ‘Mount!’

      Feeling that he and the other riders were the centre toward which all eyes were turned, Vronsky, in the highly-strung state

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