"Where's Cord?" he asked the stable-boy.

"In the stable, putting on the saddle."

In the open horse-box stood Frou-Frou, saddled ready. They were

just going to lead her out.

"I'm not too late?"

"All right! All right!" said the Englishman; "don't upset

yourself!"

Vronsky once more took in in one glance the exquisite lines of

his favorite mare; who was quivering all over, and with an effort

he tore himself from the sight of her, and went out of the

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stable. He went towards the pavilions at the most favorable

moment for escaping attention. The mile-and-a-half race was just

finishing, and all eyes were fixed on the horse-guard in front

and the light hussar behind, urging their horses on with a last

effort close to the winning post. From the center and outside of

the ring all were crowding to the winning post, and a group of

soldiers and officers of the horse-guards were shouting loudly

their delight at the expected triumph of their officer and

comrade. Vronsky moved into the middle of the crowd unnoticed,

almost at the very moment when the bell rang at the finish of the

race, and the tall, mudspattered horse-guard who came in first,

bending over the saddle, let go the reins of his panting gray

horse that looked dark with sweat.

The horse, stiffening out its legs, with an effort stopped its

rapid course, and the officer of the horse-guards looked round

him like a man waking up from a heavy sleep, and just managed to

smile. A crowd of friends and outsiders pressed round him.

Vronsky intentionally avoided that select crowd of the upper

world, which was moving and talking with discreet freedom before

the pavilions. He knew that Madame Karenina was there, and

Betsy, and his brother's wife, and he purposely did not go near

them for fear of something distracting his attention. But he was

continually met and stopped by acquaintances, who told him about

the previous races, and kept asking him why he was so late.

At the time when the racers had to go to the pavilion to receive

the prizes, and all attention was directed to that point,

Vronsky's elder brother, Alexander, a colonel with heavy fringed

epaulets, came up to him. He was not tall, though as broadly

built as Alexey, and handsomer and rosier than he; he had a red

nose, and an open, drunken-looking face.

"Did you get my note?" he said. "There's never any finding you."

Alexander Vronsky, in spite of the dissolute life, and in

especial the drunken habits, for which he was notorious, was

quite one of the court circle.




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