Part Two: Chapter 28

by Leo Tolstoy

　　When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna wasalready sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilionwhere all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight ofher husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover,were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by herexternal senses she was aware of their nearness. She was awareof her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not helpfollowing him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he wasmoving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw himnow responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, nowexchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, nowassiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of thisworld, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips ofhis ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hatefulto her. "Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on,that's all there is in his soul," she thought; "as for theselofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so manytools for getting on."

　　From his glances towards the ladies' pavilion (he was staringstraight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea ofmuslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that hewas looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him.

　　"Alexey Alexandrovitch!" Princess Betsy called to him; "I'm sureyou don't see your wife: here she is."

　　He smiled his chilly smile.

　　"There's so much splendor here that one's eyes are dazzled," hesaid, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as aman should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting fromher, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving toeach what was due--that is to say, jesting with the ladies anddealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near thepavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom AlexeyAlexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence andculture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation withhim.

　　There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hinderedconversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval ofraces. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heardhis high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every wordstruck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain.

　　When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forwardand gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horseand mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome,never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony ofterror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was thenever-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband'sshrill voice with its familiar intonations.

　　"I'm a wicked woman, a lost woman," she thought; "but I don'tlike lying, I can't endure falsehood, while as for him (herhusband) it's the breath of his life--falsehood. He knows allabout it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk socalmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, Imight respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety,"Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was shewanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see himbehave. She did not understand either that AlexeyAlexandrovitch's peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating toher, was merely the expression of his inward distress anduneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, puttingall his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same wayAlexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown thethoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky's, andwith the continual iteration of his name, would force themselveson his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well andcleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He wassaying:

　　"Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essentialelement in the race. If England can point to the most brilliantfeats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to thefact that she has historically developed this force both inbeasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, andas is always the case, we see nothing but what is mostsuperficial."

　　"It's not superficial," said Princess Tverskaya. "One of theofficers, they say, has broken two ribs."

　　Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered histeeth, but revealed nothing more.

　　"We'll admit, princess, that that's not superficial," he said,"but internal. But that's not the point," and he turned again tothe general with whom he was talking seriously; "we mustn'tforget that those who are taking part in the race are militarymen, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that everycalling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part ofthe duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prizefighting orSpanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specializedtrials of skill are a sign of development."

　　"No, I shan't come another time; it's too upsetting," saidPrincess Betsy. "Isn't it, Anna?"

　　"It is upsetting, but one can't tear oneself away," said anotherlady. "If I'd been a Roman woman I should never have missed asingle circus."

　　Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera glass up, gazed alwaysat the same spot.

　　At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion.Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got uphurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general.

　　"You're not racing?" the officer asked, chaffing him.

　　"My race is a harder one," Alexey Alexandrovitch respondeddeferentially.

　　And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as thoughhe had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relishedla pointe de la sauce.

　　"There are two aspects," Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: "thosewho take part and those who look on; and love for such spectaclesis an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in thespectator, I admit, but..."

　　"Princess, bets!" sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch's voice frombelow. addressing Betsy. "Who's your favorite?"

　　"Anna and I are for Kuzovlev," replied Betsy.

　　"I'm for Vronsky. A pair of gloves?"

　　"Done!"

　　"But it is a pretty sight, isn't it?"

　　Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him,but he began again directly.

　　"I admit that manly sports do not..." he was continuing.

　　But at that moment the racers started, and all conversationceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stoodup and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took nointerest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, butfell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes.His eyes rested upon Anna.

　　Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing andno one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan,and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turnedaway, scrutinizing other faces.

　　"But here's this lady too, and others very much moved as well;it's very natural," Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He triednot to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her.He examined that face again, trying not to read what was soplainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror readon it what he did not want to know.

　　The first fall--Kuzovlev's, at the stream--agitated everyone,but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna's pale,triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen.When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier,the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it andfatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the wholepublic, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even noticeit, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talkingof about her. But more and more often, and with greaterpersistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she waswith the race, became aware of her husband's cold eyes fixedupon her from one side.

　　She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, andwith a slight frown turned away again.

　　"Ah, I don't care!" she seemed to say to him, and she did notonce glance at him again.

　　The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers whorode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the endof the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which wasintensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased.