had gone six or seven versts did he remember that he had looked at his watch and realized that it was half-past five, and that he was late.
On that day there were to be several races: first the draught-horses, then the officers' two-verst dash, then a second of four, and last that in which he was to take part. He could be in time for his race, but, if he went to Briansky's, he ran the risk of getting to the grounds after the court had arrived. That was not in good form. But he had promised Briansky to be there, therefore he kept on, commanding the coachman not to spare the troïka. He reached Briansky's, spent five minutes with him, and was off again at full speed. The rapid motion calmed him. All the difficulties that confronted him in his relations with Anna, all the uncertainty that remained after their conversation, vanished from his mind; he thought with delight and excitement of the race, and how he might after all get there in time, and then again he vividly imagined the brilliant society which would gather to-day at the course.
And he got more and more into the atmosphere of the races as he overtook people coming in their carriages from various villas, and even from Petersburg, on their way to the hippodrome.
When he reached his quarters, no one was at home; all had gone to the races, except his valet, who was waiting for him at the entrance. While he was changing his clothes, his valet told him that the second race had already begun that a number of gentlemen had been to inquire for him.
Vronsky dressed without haste,—for he never was hurried and he never lost his self-command,—and directed the coachman to take him to the tables. From there he saw a sea of carriages of all sorts, of pedestrians, soldiers, and of spectators, surrounding the hippodrome, and the seats boiling with people.
Evidently the second course had been run, for just as he reached the stables he heard the sound of a bell. As he reached the stable, he noticed Makhotin's white-footed chestnut Gladiator, covered with a blue and
