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the funeral march.”
“Drink it up; you positively must drink the brandy, and then seltzer
water and a lot of lemon,” said Yashvin, standing over Petritsky like a
mother making a child take medicine, “and then a little champagne—
just a small bottle.”
“Come, there’s some sense in that. Stop a bit, Vronsky. We’ll all
have a drink.”
“No; good-bye 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 top.”
Vronsky was in fact beginning, prematurely, to get a little bald. He
laughed gaily, showing his even teeth, and puling 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 he thought better of it, and put off reading
them so as not to distract his attention before looking at the mare.
“Later!”
Chapter 21.
The temporary stable, a wooden shed, had been put up close to the
race course, 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
positively did not know in what condition his mare had arrived yester-
day and was today. He had scarcely got out of his carriage when his
groom, the so-called “stable boy,” 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 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 in the
inside of 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.