"Don't be in a hurry," said Cord to Vronsky, "and remember one

thing: don't hold her in at the fences, and don't urge her on;

let her go as she likes."

"All right, all right," said Vronsky, taking the reins.

"If you can, lead the race; but don't lose heart till the last

minute, even if you're behind."

Before the mare had time to move, Vronsky stepped with an agile,

vigorous movement into the steel-toothed stirrup, and lightly and

firmly seated himself on the creaking leather of the saddle.

Getting his right foot in the stirrup, he smoothed the double

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reins, as he always did, between his fingers, and Cord let go.

As though she did not know which foot to put first, Frou-Frou

started, dragging at the reins with her long neck, and as though

she were on springs, shaking her rider from side to side. Cord

quickened his step, following him. The excited mare, trying to

shake off her rider first on one side and then the other, pulled

at the reins, and Vronsky tried in vain with voice and hand to

soothe her.

They were just reaching the dammed-up stream on their way to the

starting point. Several of the riders were in front and several

behind, when suddenly Vronsky heard the sound of a horse

galloping in the mud behind him, and he was overtaken by Mahotin

on his white-legged, lop-eared Gladiator. Mahotin smiled,

showing his long teeth, but Vronsky looked angrily at him. He

did not like him, and regarded him now as his most formidable

rival. He was angry with him for galloping past and exciting his

mare. Frou-Frou started into a gallop, her left foot forward,

made two bounds, and fretting at the tightened reins, passed into

a jolting trot, bumping her rider up and down. Cord, too,

scowled, and followed Vronsky almost at a trot.




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