Anna Karenina (Literature Classics Series). Leo Tolstoy

were they fond of him, they respected him too and were proud of him: proud that this man, with his enormous wealth and excellent education and abilities,’ to whom the road to success of all kinds gratifying to ambition or vanity lay open, had disregarded all this, and of all life’s interests had nearest to his heart those of his regiment and his comrades. Vronsky was aware of this attitude of his comrades toward him, and besides liking the life felt bound to justify their view of him.

      It goes without saying that he spoke to none of them about his love, nor did he betray himself even in the wildest drinking-bouts (indeed, he never drank so as to lose all self-control). And he silenced any of his thoughtless comrades who tried to hint at the liaison. But in spite of this, his love affair was known to all the town: everybody guessed more or less correctly what his relations with Anna Karenina were. Most of the young men envied him just on account of what was most trying in the affair, namely Karenin’s high rank and the consequent prominence of the affair in Society.

      The majority of young women, who envied Anna and had long been weary of hearing her virtues praised, were pleased at what they guessed, and only waited to be sure that public opinion had turned before throwing the whole weight of their scorn at her. They already prepared lumps of mud to pelt her with in due time. Most of the older people and of those highly-placed regretted this impending social scandal.

      Vronsky’s mother, on hearing of the matter, was at first pleased, both because in her opinion nothing gave such finishing touches to a brilliant young man as an intrigue in the best Society, and also because this Anna Karenina, who had so taken her fancy and who had talked so much about her little son, was after all such as the Countess Vronsky expected all handsome and well-bred women to be. But latterly she had heard that her son had refused a post of importance for his career, merely to remain with his regiment and be able to see Anna Karenina, and that exalted persons were dissatisfied with him for it, so she changed her opinion. She was also displeased because, from all she heard of it, this affair was not one of those brilliant, graceful, Society liaisons which she approved, but a desperate Werther-like passion which might lead him into doing something foolish. She had not seen him since his sudden departure from Moscow, and through her eldest son she sent him word to come and see her.

      The elder brother was also dissatisfied with the younger. He did not distinguish what kind of love it was, great or small, passionate or passionless, guilty or pure (he himself, the father of a family, kept a ballet girl, and was therefore lenient in these matters): but he knew that it was a love affair which displeased those whom it is necessary to please, and he therefore disapproved of his brother’s conduct.

      Besides his military and social interests Vronsky had another one, namely horses, of which he was passionately fond.

      That year there was to be an officers’ steeplechase, and Vronsky had put down his name, bought an English thoroughbred mare, and, in spite of his love, was passionately, though restrainedly, concerned about the coming races.

      The two passions did not interfere with one another. On the contrary he needed an occupation and an interest apart from his love, in which to refresh himself and find rest from the impressions which agitated him too violently.

      Chapter 19

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      ON the day of the Krasnoe Selo races Vronsky came earlier than usual to the regimental mess-room to eat his beefsteak. It was not necessary for him to train very strictly as his weight was just the regulation eleven-and-a-half stone, but he had to be careful not to get fatter and therefore avoided sweets and starchy foods. He sat waiting with his elbows on the table and his coat unbuttoned over a white waistcoat, and while waiting for the beefsteak he had ordered he looked at the pages of a French novel that lay on his plate. He only looked at the book in order not to have to talk to the officers who came in and out of the room while he was thinking.

      He thought of Anna, who had promised to meet him after the races. But he had not seen her for three days and, as her husband had returned from abroad, he did not know whether she could keep the appointment to-day or not, and he did not know how to find out. He had seen her last at his cousin Betsy’s country house. He went to the Karenins’ country house as seldom as possible, but now he meant to go there and was considering how to do it.

      ‘Of course I can say that Betsy sent me to find out if she will be at the race. Yes, of course I will go,’ he decided, lifting his eyes from the book, and a vivid sense of the joy of seeing her made his face radiant.

      ‘Send to my house and tell them to harness three horses to the calèche at once,’ he said to the waiter who had brought him a beefsteak on a hot silver plate; and drawing the plate nearer to him he began to eat.

      From the neighbouring billiard-room came the click of balls, talk, and laughter. Two officers appeared at the entrance door: one with a weak thin face, a young officer who had just joined the regiment from the Cadet Corps; the other a plump old officer with a bracelet on his arm and small eyes sunk in a bloated face.

      Vronsky glanced at them, frowned, and, as if he had not noticed them, turned his eyes on his book and began to eat and read at the same time.

      ‘What? Fortifying yourself for your job?’ asked the plump officer taking a seat beside him.

      ‘As you see,’ said Vronsky, frowning and wiping his mouth, without looking at the speaker.

      ‘Not afraid of getting fat?’ said the other, turning a chair round for the young officer.

      ‘What?’ said Vronsky frowning, making a grimace of disgust and showing his regular teeth.

      ‘Not afraid of getting fat?’

      ‘Waiter, sherry!’ said Vronsky without replying, and moving his book to the other side of his plate he continued to read.

      The plump officer took the wine-list and turned to the young one.

      ‘You choose what we shall drink,’ said he, handing him the list and looking at him.

      ‘Suppose we have some Rhine wine,’ said the young one, turning his eyes timidly to Vronsky while his fingers tried to catch hold of his just budding moustache. Seeing that Vronsky did not turn round, he rose.

      ‘Let us go into the billiard-room,’ he said.

      The plump officer got up obediently and they made their way toward the door.

      At that moment Captain Yashvin, a tall man with a fine figure, entered the room, and having given a contemptuous backward nod to the two officers he came up to Vronsky.

      ‘Ah, here he is!’ he exclaimed, and with his big hand gave Vronsky a sharp slap on his shoulder-strap. Vronsky looked up angrily, but his face brightened at once into its characteristic look of quiet, firm kindliness.

      ‘That is wise, Alexis,’ said the captain in a loud baritone, ‘eat now, and drink one small glass.’

      ‘I don’t want to eat.’

      ‘There are the inseparables,’ added Yashvin, glancing ironically at the two officers who were just going out of the room. He sat down beside Vronsky, and his legs encased in tight riding-breeches, being too long for the size of the chair, bent at a sharp angle at the hip and knee-joints. ‘Why did you not come to the Krasnensky Theatre last night?’

      ‘I stayed late at the Tverskoys.’

      ‘Ah!’ said Yashvin.

      Yashvin, a gambler, a rake, a man not merely without principles but with bad principles, was Vronsky’s best friend in the regiment. Vronsky liked him both for his extraordinary physical strength, which he chiefly demonstrated by his ability to drink like a fish and go without sleep without making any difference to him, and for the great mental power which was apparent in his relations with his commanding officers and comrades, who feared and respected him, and in his card-playing when he staked tens of thousands of roubles and, in spite of what he drank, always with such skill and decision that he was considered