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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 215/828
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Vronsky
had
not
had
time
to
look
at
the
saddle
,
about
which
he
had
to
give
some
direction
,
when
the
competitors
were
summoned
to
the
pavilion
to
receive
their
numbers
and
places
in
the
row
at
starting
.
Seventeen
officers
,
looking
serious
and
severe
,
many
with
pale
faces
,
met
together
in
the
pavilion
and
drew
the
numbers
.
Vronsky
drew
the
number
seven
.
The
cry
was
heard
:
“
Mount
!
”
Feeling
that
with
the
others
riding
in
the
race
,
he
was
the
center
upon
which
all
eyes
were
fastened
,
Vronsky
walked
up
to
his
mare
in
that
state
of
nervous
tension
in
which
he
usually
became
deliberate
and
composed
in
his
movements
.
Cord
,
in
honor
of
the
races
,
had
put
on
his
best
clothes
,
a
black
coat
buttoned
up
,
a
stiffly
starched
collar
,
which
propped
up
his
cheeks
,
a
round
black
hat
,
and
top
boots
.
He
was
calm
and
dignified
as
ever
,
and
was
with
his
own
hands
holding
Frou
-
Frou
by
both
reins
,
standing
straight
in
front
of
her
.
Frou
-
Frou
was
still
trembling
as
though
in
a
fever
.
Her
eye
,
full
of
fire
,
glanced
sideways
at
Vronsky
.
Vronsky
slipped
his
finger
under
the
saddle
-
girth
.
The
mare
glanced
aslant
at
him
,
drew
up
her
lip
,
and
twitched
her
ear
.
The
Englishman
puckered
up
his
lips
,
intending
to
indicate
a
smile
that
anyone
should
verify
his
saddling
.
“
Get
up
;
you
won
’
t
feel
so
excited
.
”
Vronsky
looked
round
for
the
last
time
at
his
rivals
.
He
knew
that
he
would
not
see
them
during
the
race
.
Two
were
already
riding
forward
to
the
point
from
which
they
were
to
start
.
Galtsin
,
a
friend
of
Vronsky
’
s
and
one
of
his
more
formidable
rivals
,
was
moving
round
a
bay
horse
that
would
not
let
him
mount
.
A
little
light
hussar
in
tight
riding
breeches
rode
off
at
a
gallop
,
crouched
up
like
a
cat
on
the
saddle
,
in
imitation
of
English
jockeys
.
Prince
Kuzovlev
sat
with
a
white
face
on
his
thoroughbred
mare
from
the
Grabovsky
stud
,
while
an
English
groom
led
her
by
the
bridle
.
Vronsky
and
all
his
comrades
knew
Kuzovlev
and
his
peculiarity
of
“
weak
nerves
”
and
terrible
vanity
.
They
knew
that
he
was
afraid
of
everything
,
afraid
of
riding
a
spirited
horse
.
But
now
,
just
because
it
was
terrible
,
because
people
broke
their
necks
,
and
there
was
a
doctor
standing
at
each
obstacle
,
and
an
ambulance
with
a
cross
on
it
,
and
a
sister
of
mercy
,
he
had
made
up
his
mind
to
take
part
in
the
race
.
Their
eyes
met
,
and
Vronsky
gave
him
a
friendly
and
encouraging
nod
.
Only
one
he
did
not
see
,
his
chief
rival
,
Mahotin
on
Gladiator
.
“
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
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
.
