`Mind you're not late!' was Iashvin's only comment; and, to change the conversation: `How's my roan? Is he doing all right?' he inquired, looking out of the window at the shaft horse, which he had sold to Vronsky.
`Stop!' cried Petritsky to Vronsky, just as he was going out.
`Your brother left a letter and a note for you. Wait a bit; where are they?'
Vronsky stopped.
`Well, where are they?'
`Where are they? That's just the question!' said Petritsky solemnly, sliding his forefinger upward along his nose.
`Come, tell me; this is silly!' said Vronsky smiling.
`I haven't lighted the fire. They must be here somewhere.'
`Come, enough fooling! Where is the letter?'
`No, I've forgotten, really. Or was it a dream? Wait a bit, wait a bit! But what's the use of getting in a rage? If you'd drunk four bottles per man yesterday as I did, you'd forget where you were at. Wait a bit, I'll remember!'
Petritsky went behind the partition and lay down on his bed.
`Wait a bit! This was how I was lying, and this was how he was standing. Yes - yes - yes... Here it is!' - and Petritsky pulled a letter out from under the mattress, where he had hidden it.
Vronsky took the letter and his brother's note. It was the letter he was expecting - from his mother, reproaching him for not having been to see her - and the note was from his brother to say that he must have a little talk with him. Vronsky knew that it was all about the same thing.
`What business is it of theirs!' thought Vronsky, and crumpling up the letters he thrust them between the buttons of his coat so as to read them carefully on the road. In the porch of the hut he was met by two officers;one of his regiment and one of another.
Vronsky's quarters were always a meeting place for all the officers.
`Where are you off to?'
`I must go to Peterhof.'
`Has the mare come from Tsarskoe?'
`Yes, but I've not seen her yet.'
`They say Makhotin's Gladiator's lame.'
`Nonsense! However, are you going to race in this mud?' said the other.
`Here are my saviors!' cried Petritsky, seeing them come in. Before him stood the batman with vodka and pickled cucumbers on a tray. `Here's Iashvin, ordering me to drink a pick-me-up.'
`Well, you did make it hot for us yesterday,' said one of those who had come in; `you didn't let us get a wink of sleep all night.'
`Oh, didn't we make a pretty finish!' said Petritsky. `Volkov climbed onto the roof and began telling us how sad he was. I said: ``Let's have music, the funeral march!'' He fairly dropped asleep on the roof over the funeral march.'
`Drink it up; you positively must drink the vodka, and then Seltzer water, and a lot of lemon,' said Iashvin, standing over Petritsky like a mother making a child take medicine, `and then a little champagne - just a wee bottle.'
`Come, there's some sense in that. Stop a bit, Vronsky. We'll all have a drink.'
`No; good-by, all of you. I'm not going to drink today.'
`Why, are you gaining weight? All right, then we must have it alone. Give us the Seltzer water and lemon.'
`Vronsky!' shouted someone when he was already outside.
`Well?'
`You'd better get your hair cut, it'll weigh you down - especially at the bald place.'
Vronsky was in fact beginning, prematurely, to get a little bald.
He laughed gaily, showing his heavy teeth, and pulling his cap over the thin place, went out and got into his carriage.
`To the stables!' he said, and was just pulling out the letters to read them through, but thought better of it, and put off reading them so as not to distract his attention before looking at the mare. `Later on!...'
[Next Chapter] [Table of Contents]TOLSTOY: Anna Karenina Part 2, Chapter 21[Previous Chapter] [Table of Contents] Chapter 21 The temporary stable, a wooden booth, had been put up close to the racecourse, and there his mare was to have been taken the previous day. He had not yet seen her there. During the last few days he had not ridden her out for exercise himself, but had put her in the charge of the trainer, and so now he absolutely did not know in what condition his mare had arrived yesterday or was in today. He had scarcely got out of his carriage when his stableboy (groom), recognizing the carriage some way off, called the trainer. A dry-looking Englishman, in high boots and a short jacket, clean-shaven, except for a tuft below his chin, came to meet him walking with the uncouth gait of a jockey, turning his elbows out and swaying from side to side.
`Well, how's Frou-Frou?' Vronsky asked in English.
`All right, sir,' the Englishman's voice responded somewhere far down in his throat. `Better not go in,' he added, touching his hat. `I've put a muzzle on her, and the mare's fidgety. Better not go in, it'll excite the mare.'
`No, I'm going in. I want to look at her.'
`Come along, then,' said the Englishman, frowning, and speaking with his mouth shut, and, with swinging elbows, he went on in front with his disjointed gait.
They went into the little yard in front of the shed. The stableboy on duty, spruce and smart in his holiday attire, met them with a broom in his hand, and followed them. In the shed there were five horses in their separate stalls, and Vronsky knew that his chief rival, Makhotin's Gladiator, a very tall chestnut horse, had been brought there, and must be standing among them. Even more than his mare, Vronsky longed to see Gladiator, whom he had never seen, but Vronsky knew that by the etiquette of the racecourse it was not merely impossible for him to see the horse, but improper even to ask questions about him. just as he was passing along the passage, the boy opened the door into the second horsebox on the left, and Vronsky caught a glimpse of a big chestnut horse with white legs. He knew that this was Gladiator, but, with the feeling of a man turning away from the sight of another man's open letter, he turned round and went into Frou-Frou's stall.
`The stall belonging to Ma-k... Mak... I never can say the name - is here,' said the Englishman over his shoulder, pointing his dirty-nailed thumb toward Gladiator's stall.
