Chapter 25
There were seventeen officers in all riding in this race. The race course
was a large three-mile ring of the form of an ellipse in front of the pavilion.
On this course nine obstacles had been arranged: the stream, a big and solid
barrier five feet high, just before the pavilion, a dry ditch, a ditch full of
water, a precipitous slope, an Irish barricade (one of the most difficult
obstacles, consisting of a mound fenced with brushwood, beyond which
was a ditch out of sight for the horses, so that the horse had to clear both
obstacles or might be killed); then two more ditches filled with water, and
one dry one; and the end of the race was just facing the pavilion. But the
race began not in the ring, but two hundred yards away from it, and in that
part of the course was the first obstacle, a dammed-up stream, seven feet in
breadth, which the racers could leap or wade through as they preferred.
Three times they were ranged ready to start, but each time some horse
thrust itself out of line, and they had to begin again. The umpire who was
starting them, Colonel Sestrin, was beginning to lose his temper, when at
last for the fourth time he shouted “Away!” and the racers started.
Every eye, every opera-glass, was turned on the brightly colored group of
riders at the moment they were in line to start.
“They’re off! They’re starting!” was heard on all sides after the hush of
expectation.
And little groups and solitary figures among the public began running
from place to place to get a better view. In the very first minute the close
group of horsemen drew out, and it could be seen that they were
approaching the stream in twos and threes and one behind another. To the
spectators it seemed as though they had all started simultaneously, but to the
racers there were seconds of difference that had great value to them.
Frou-Frou, excited and over-nervous, had lost the first moment, and
several horses had started before her, but before reaching the stream,
Vronsky, who was holding in the mare with all his force as she tugged at the
bridle, easily overtook three, and there were left in front of him Mahotin’s
chestnut Gladiator, whose hind-quarters were moving lightly and
rhythmically up and down exactly in front of Vronsky, and in front of all,
the dainty mare Diana bearing Kuzovlev more dead than alive.
For the first instant Vronsky was not master either of himself or his mare.
Up to the first obstacle, the stream, he could not guide the motions of his
mare.
Gladiator and Diana came up to it together and almost at the same
instant; simultaneously they rose above the stream and flew across to the
other side; Frou-Frou darted after them, as if flying; but at the very moment
when Vronsky felt himself in the air, he suddenly saw almost under his
mare’s hoofs Kuzovlev, who was floundering with Diana on the further side
of the stream. (Kuzovlev had let go the reins as he took the leap, and the
mare had sent him flying over her head.) Those details Vronsky learned
later; at the moment all he saw was that just under him, where Frou-Frou
must alight, Diana’s legs or head might be in the way. But Frou-Frou drew
up her legs and back in the very act of leaping, like a falling cat, and,
clearing the other mare, alighted beyond her.
“O the darling!” thought Vronsky.
After crossing the stream Vronsky had complete control of his mare, and
began holding her in, intending to cross the great barrier behind Mahotin,
and to try to overtake him in the clear ground of about five hundred yards
that followed it.
The great barrier stood just in front of the imperial pavilion. The Tsar and
the whole court and crowds of people were all gazing at them—at him, and
Mahotin a length ahead of him, as they drew near the “devil,” as the solid
barrier was called. Vronsky was aware of those eyes fastened upon him
from all sides, but he saw nothing except the ears and neck of his own mare,
the ground racing to meet him, and the back and white legs of Gladiator
beating time swiftly before him, and keeping always the same distance
ahead. Gladiator rose, with no sound of knocking against anything. With a
wave of his short tail he disappeared from Vronsky’s sight.
“Bravo!” cried a voice.
At the same instant, under Vronsky’s eyes, right before him flashed the
palings of the barrier. Without the slightest change in her action his mare
flew over it; the palings vanished, and he heard only a crash behind him.
The mare, excited by Gladiator’s keeping ahead, had risen too soon before
the barrier, and grazed it with her hind hoofs. But her pace never changed,
and Vronsky, feeling a spatter of mud in his face, realized that he was once
more the same distance from Gladiator. Once more he perceived in front of
him the same back and short tail, and again the same swiftly moving white
legs that got no further away.
At the very moment when Vronsky thought that now was the time to
overtake Mahotin, Frou-Frou herself, understanding his thoughts, without
any incitement on his part, gained ground considerably, and began getting
alongside of Mahotin on the most favorable side, close to the inner cord.
Mahotin would not let her pass that side. Vronsky had hardly formed the
thought that he could perhaps pass on the outer side, when Frou-Frou
shifted her pace and began overtaking him on the other side. Frou-Frou’s
shoulder, beginning by now to be dark with sweat, was even with
Gladiator’s back. For a few lengths they moved evenly. But before the
obstacle they were approaching, Vronsky began working at the reins,
anxious to avoid having to take the outer circle, and swiftly passed Mahotin
just upon the declivity. He caught a glimpse of his mud-stained face as he
flashed by. He even fancied that he smiled. Vronsky passed Mahotin, but he
was immediately aware of him close upon him, and he never ceased hearing
the even-thudding hoofs and the rapid and still quite fresh breathing of
Gladiator.
The next two obstacles, the water course and the barrier, were easily
crossed, but Vronsky began to hear the snorting and thud of Gladiator closer
upon him. He urged on his mare, and to his delight felt that she easily
quickened her pace, and the thud of Gladiator’s hoofs was again heard at
the same distance away.
Vronsky was at the head of the race, just as he wanted to be and as Cord
had advised, and now he felt sure of being the winner. His excitement, his
delight, and his tenderness for Frou-Frou grew keener and keener. He
longed to look round again, but he did not dare do this, and tried to be cool
and not to urge on his mare so to keep the same reserve of force in her as he
felt that Gladiator still kept. There remained only one obstacle, the most
difficult; if he could cross it ahead of the others he would come in first. He
was flying towards the Irish barricade, Frou-Frou and he both together saw
the barricade in the distance, and both the man and the mare had a
moment’s hesitation. He saw the uncertainty in the mare’s ears and lifted
the whip, but at the same time felt that his fears were groundless; the mare
knew what was wanted. She quickened her pace and rose smoothly, just as
he had fancied she would, and as she left the ground gave herself up to the
force of her rush, which carried her far beyond the ditch; and with the same
rhythm, without effort, with the same leg forward, Frou-Frou fell back into
her pace again.
“Bravo, Vronsky!” he heard shouts from a knot of men—he knew they
were his friends in the regiment—who were standing at the obstacle. He
could not fail to recognize Yashvin’s voice though he did not see him.
“O my sweet!” he said inwardly to Frou-Frou, as he listened for what
was happening behind. “He’s cleared it!” he thought, catching the thud of
Gladiator’s hoofs behind him. There remained only the last ditch, filled
with water and five feet wide. Vronsky did not even look at it, but anxious
to get in a long way first began sawing away at the reins, lifting the mare’s
head and letting it go in time with her paces. He felt that the mare was at
her very last reserve of strength; not her neck and shoulders merely were
wet, but the sweat was standing in drops on her mane, her head, her sharp
ears, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. But he knew that she had
strength left more than enough for the remaining five hundred yards. It was
only from feeling himself nearer the ground and from the peculiar
smoothness of his motion that Vronsky knew how greatly the mare had
quickened her pace. She flew over the ditch as though not noticing it. She
flew over it like a bird; but at the same instant Vronsky, to his horror, felt
that he had failed to keep up with the mare’s pace, that he had, he did not
know how, made a fearful, unpardonable mistake, in recovering his seat in
the saddle. All at once his position had shifted and he knew that something
awful had happened. He could not yet make out what had happened, when
the white legs of a chestnut horse flashed by close to him, and Mahotin
passed at a swift gallop. Vronsky was touching the ground with one foot,
and his mare was sinking on that foot. He just had time to free his leg when
she fell on one side, gasping painfully, and, making vain efforts to rise with
her delicate, soaking neck, she fluttered on the ground at his feet like a shot
bird. The clumsy movement made by Vronsky had broken her back. But
that he only knew much later. At that moment he knew only that Mahotin
had flown swiftly by, while he stood staggering alone on the muddy,
motionless ground, and Frou-Frou lay gasping before him, bending her
head back and gazing at him with her exquisite eyes. Still unable to realize
