Vronsky’s mother, on learning of his liaison, was pleased at first - both because nothing, to her mind, gave the ultimate finish to a brilliant young man like a liaison in high society, and because Anna, whom she had liked so much, who had talked so much about her son, was after all just like all other beautiful and decent women, to Countess Vronsky’s mind. But recently she had learned that her son had refused a post offered to him and important for his career, only in order to stay in the regiment and be able to see Anna, had learned that highly placed people were displeased with him for that, and had changed her opinion. Nor did she like it that, judging by all she had learned of this liaison, it was not a brilliant, graceful society liaison, of which she would have approved, but some sort of desperate Wertherian25 passion, as she had been told, which might draw him into foolishness. She had not seen him since the time of his unexpected departure from Moscow, and demanded through his older brother that he come to see her.
The elder brother was also displeased with the younger. He did not care what sort of love it was, great or small, passionate or unpassionate, depraved or not depraved (he himself, though he had children, kept a dancer, and was therefore indulgent about such things); but he knew that this love displeased those whose good pleasure was necessary, and he therefore disapproved of his brother’s behaviour.
Besides the service and society, Vronsky had one more occupation - horses, of which he was a passionate fancier.
That year an officers’ steeplechase was planned. Vronsky signed up for the race, bought an English thoroughbred mare and, in spite of his love, was passionately, though restrainedly, carried away with the forthcoming races ...
These two passions did not interfere with each other. On the contrary, he needed an occupation and an enthusiasm not dependent on his love, in which he could refresh himself and rest from impressions that excited him too much.
XIX
On the day of the Krasnoe Selo26 races, Vronsky came earlier than usual to eat his beefsteak in the common room of the regimental mess. He did not need to maintain himself too strictly, because his weight was exactly the regulation hundred and sixty pounds; but he also had not to gain any weight, and so he avoided starches and sweets. He was sitting in a jacket unbuttoned over a white waistcoat, both elbows leaning on the table, and, while awaiting the beefsteak he had ordered, was looking into a French novel that lay open on his plate. He looked into the book only to avoid having to talk with the officers going in and out while he was thinking.
He was thinking that Anna had promised to arrange to meet him that day after the races. But he had not seen her for three days, and, since her husband had returned from abroad, he did not know whether it was possible that day or not, and did not know how to find it out. The last time he had seen her was at his cousin Betsy’s country house. To the Karenins’ country house he went as seldom as possible. Now he wanted to go there and was pondering the question of how to do it.
‘Of course, I can say that Betsy sent me to ask if she was coming to the races. Of course I’ll go,’ he decided to himself, raising his head from the book. And, as he vividly pictured to himself the happiness of seeing her, his face lit up.
‘Send to my place and tell them to harness the carriage quickly,’ he said to the servant who brought him the beefsteak on a hot silver dish, and, drawing the dish towards him, he began to eat.
From the next room came talk and laughter and the click of billiard balls. At the entrance two officers appeared: one young, with a weak, thin face, who had come to the regiment from the Corps of Pages not long ago; the other a plump old officer with a bracelet on his wrist and puffy little eyes.
Vronsky glanced at them, frowned and, as if not noticing them, looked sideways at the book and began to eat and read at the same time.
‘Fortifying yourself before work?’ said the plump officer, sitting down near him.
‘As you see,’ said Vronsky, frowning and wiping his mouth without looking at him.
‘Not afraid of gaining weight?’ the first said, offering the young officer a chair.
‘What?’ Vronsky said angrily, making a grimace of disgust and showing his solid row of teeth.
‘Not afraid of gaining weight?’
‘Sherry, boy!’ Vronsky said without replying, and, moving the book to the other side, he went on reading.
The plump officer took the wine list and turned to the young officer.
‘You choose what we’ll drink,’ he said, handing him the list and looking at him.
‘Maybe Rhine wine,’ the young officer said, timidly casting a sidelong glance at Vronsky and trying to grasp his barely grown moustache in his fingers. Seeing that Vronsky did not turn, the young officer stood up.
‘Let’s go to the billiard room,’ he said.
The plump officer obediently stood up, and they went to the door.
