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Chapter 19
On the day of the races at Krasnoe Selo, Vronsky had come earlier
than usual to eat beefsteak in the common messroom of the regiment.
He had no need to be strict with himself, as he had very quickly been
brought down to the required light weight; but still he had to avoid
gaining flesh, and so he eschewed farinaceous and sweet dishes. He
sat with his coat unbuttoned over a white waistcoat, resting both el-
bows on the table, and while waiting for the steak he had ordered he
looked at a French novel that lay open on his plate. He was only
looking at the book to avoid conversation with the officers coming in
and out; he was thinking.
He was thinking of Anna’s promise to see him that day after the
races. But he had not seen her for three days, and as her husband had
just returned from aborad, he did not know whether she would be able
to meet him today or not, and he did not know how to find out. He had
had his last interview with her at his cousin Betsy’s summer villa. He
visited the Karenins’ summer villa as rarely as possible. Now he wanted
to go there, and he pondered the question how to do it.
“Of course In shall say Betsy has sent me to ask whether she’s
coming to the races. Of course, I’ll go,” he decided, lifting his head from
the book. And as he vividly pictured the happiness of seeing her, his
face lighted up.
“Send to my house, and tell them to have out the carriage and three
horses as quick as they can,” he said to the servant, who handed him
the steak on a hot silver dish, and moving the dish up he began eating.
From the billiard room next door came the sound of balls knocking,
of talk and laughter. Two officers appeared at the entrance-door: one,
a young fellow, with a feeble, delicate face, who had lately joined the
regiment from the Corps of Pages; the other, a plump, elderly officer,
with a bracelet on his wrist, and little eyes, lost in fat.
Vronsky glanced at them, frowned, and looking down at his book as
though he had not noticed them, he proceeded to eat and read at the
same time.
“What? Fortifying yourself for your work?” said the plump officer,
sitting down beside him.
“As you see,” responded Vronsky, knitting his brows, wiping his
mouth, and not looking at the officer.
“So you’re not afraid of getting fat?” said the latter, turning a chair
round for the young officer.
“What?” said Vronsky angrily, making a wry face of disgust, and
showing his even teeth.
“You’re not afraid of getting fat?”
“Waiter, sherry!” said Vronsky, without replying, and moving the
book to the other side of him, he went on reading.
The plump officer took up the list of wines and turned to the young
officer.
“You choose what we’re to drink,” he said, handing him the card,
and looking at him.
“Rhine wine, please,” said the young officer, stealing a timid glance
at Vronsky, and trying to pull his scarcely visible mustache. Seeing that
Vronsky did not turn round, the young officer got up.
“Let’s go into the billiard room,” he said.