Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART TWO CHAPTER 24
Chapter 24
WHEN Vronsky looked at his watch on the Karenins’ balcony, he was so greatly
agitated and lost in his thoughts that he saw the figures on the watch’s face,
but could not take in what time it was. He came out on to the high road and walked,
picking his way carefully through the mud, to his carriage. He was so completely
absorbed in his feeling for Anna, that he did not even think what o’clock it was, and
whether he had time to go to Bryansky’s. He had left him, as often happens, only
the external faculty of memory, that points out each step one has to take, one after
the other. He went up to his coachman, who was dozing on the box in the shadow,
already lengthening, of a thick limetree; he admired the shifting clouds of midges
circling over the hot horses, and, waking the coachman, he jumped into the carriage,
and told him to drive to Bryansky’s. It was only after driving nearly five miles that
he had sufficiently recovered himself to look at his watch, and realize that it was
half-past five, and he was late.
There were several races fixed for that day: the Mounted Guards’ race, then the
officers’ mile-and-a-half race, then the three-mile race, and then the race for which
he was entered. He could still be in time for his race, but if he went to Bryansky’s he
could only just be in time, and he would arrive when the whole of the court would
be in their places. That would be a pity. But he had promised Bryansky to come, and
so he decided to drive on, telling the coachman not to spare the horses.
He reached Bryansky’s, spent five minutes there, and galloped back. This rapid
drive calmed him. All that was painful in his relations with Anna, all the feeling of
indefiniteness left by their conversation, had slipped out of his mind. He was thinking
now with pleasure and excitement of the race, of his being anyhow, in time, and
now and then the thought of the blissful interview awaiting him that night flashed
across his imagination like a flaming light.
The excitement of the approaching race gained upon him as he drove further and
further into the atmosphere of the races, overtaking carriages driving up from the
summer villas or out of Petersburg.
At his quarters no one was left at home; all were at the races, and his valet was
looking out for him at the gate. While he was changing his clothes, his valet told
him that the second race had begun already, that a lot of gentlemen had been to
ask for him, and a boy had twice run up from the stables. Dressing without hurry
(he never hurried himself, and never lost his self-possession), Vronsky drove to the
sheds. From the sheds he could see a perfect sea of carriages, and people on foot,
soldiers surrounding the race course, and pavilions swarming with people. The second
race was apparently going on, for just as he went into the sheds he heard a
bell ringing. Going towards the stable, he met the white-legged chestnut, Mahotin’s
Gladiator, being led to the race-course in a blue forage horsecloth, with what looked
like huge ears edged with blue.
“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.
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