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 face and carefully combed and pomaded whiskers; in the midst of the brilliant society of Petersburg, he was no less brilliant than at Moscow. "I came down yesterday, and am very glad to be present at your triumph. When can we meet?"

"Come to the mess, after the race is over," said Vronsky; and with an apology for leaving him, he squeezed the sleeve of his paletot, and went to the middle of the hippodrome, where they were bringing the horses for the handicap-race.

The grooms were leading back the sweaty horses, wearied by the race which they had run; and one by one the fresh horses entered for the next course appeared on the ground. They were, for the most part, English horses, in hoods, and well caparisoned, and looked like enormous strange birds. At the right-hand side they were leading in the lean beauty, Frou Frou, which came out, stepping high as if on springs, with her elastic and slender pasterns. And not far from her they were removing the trappings from the lop-eared Gladiator. The stallion's solid, superb, and perfectly symmetrical form, with his splendid crupper and his extraordinarily short pasterns placed directly over the hoofs, attracted Vronsky's admiration. He was just going up to Frou Frou when another acquaintance stopped him again.

"Ah! there is Karenin," said the friend with whom he was talking; "he is hunting for his wife. She is in the very center of the pavilion. Have you seen her?"

"No, I have not," replied Vronsky; and, without turning his head in the direction where his acquaintance told him that Madame Karenin was, he went to his horse.

He had scarcely time to make some adjustment of the saddle, when those who were to compete in the hurdle-race were called to receive their numbers and directions. With serious, stern, and some with pale faces, seventeen men in all approached the stand and received their numbers. Vronsky's number was seven.

"Mount!" was the cry.

Vronsky, feeling that he, with his companions, was