"What?" said Vronsky angrily, making a wry face of disgust, and

showing his even teeth.

"You're not afraid of getting fat?"

"Waiter, sherry!" said Vronsky, without replying, and moving the

book to the other side of him, he went on reading.

The plump officer took up the list of wines and turned to the

young officer.

"You choose what we're to drink," he said, handing him the card,

and looking at him.

"Rhine wine, please," said the young officer, stealing a timid

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glance at Vronsky, and trying to pull his scarcely visible

mustache. Seeing that Vronsky did not turn round, the young

officer got up.

"Let's go into the billiard room," he said.

The plump officer rose submissively, and they moved towards the

door.

At that moment there walked into the room the tall and well-built

Captain Yashvin. Nodding with an air of lofty contempt to the

two officers, he went up to Vronsky.

"Ah! here he is!" he cried, bringing his big hand down heavily on

his epaulet. Vronsky looked round angrily, but his face lighted

up immediately with his characteristic expression of genial and

manly serenity.

"That's it, Alexey," said the captain, in his loud baritone.

"You must just eat a mouthful, now, and drink only one tiny

glass."

"Oh, I'm not hungry."

"There go the inseparables," Yashvin dropped, glancing

sarcastically at the two officers who were at that instant

leaving the room. And he bent his long legs, swathed in tight

riding breeches, and sat down in the chair, too low for him, so

that his knees were cramped up in a sharp angle.

"Why didn't you turn up at the Red Theater yesterday? Numerova

wasn't at all bad. Where were you?"

"I was late at the Tverskoys'," said Vronsky.

"Ah!" responded Yashvin.

Yashvin, a gambler and a rake, a man not merely without moral

principles, but of immoral principles, Yashvin was Vronsky's

greatest friend in the regiment. Vronsky liked him both for his

exceptional physical strength, which he showed for the most part

by being able to drink like a fish, and do without sleep without

being in the slightest degree affected by it; and for his great

strength of character, which he showed in his relations with his

comrades and superior officers, commanding both fear and respect,

and also at cards, when he would play for tens of thousands and

however much he might have drunk, always with such skill and

decision that he was reckoned the best player in the English

Club. Vronsky respected and liked Yashvin particularly because

he felt Yashvin liked him, not for his name and his money, but

for himself. And of all men he was the only one with whom

Vronsky would have liked to speak of his love. He felt that

Yashvin, in spite of his apparent contempt for every sort of

feeling, was the only man who could, so he fancied, comprehend

the intense passion which now filled his whole life. Moreover,

he felt certain that Yashvin, as it was, took no delight in

gossip and scandal, and interpreted his feeling rightly, that is

to say, knew and believed that this passion was not a jest, not a

pastime, but something more serious and important.




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