# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Two/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV
The number of the officers who were to take part was seventeen. The race-course was a great ellipse of four versts, extending before the judges' stand, and nine obstacles were placed upon it: the "river"; a great barrier two arshins—four feet, eight inches—high, in front of the pavilion; a dry ditch; a ditch filled with water; a steep ascent; an Irish banketka, which is the most difficult of all, composed of an embankment set with dry branches, behind which is concealed a ditch, obliging the horseman to leap two obstacles at once, at the risk of his life; then three more ditches, two filled with water and one dry; and finally the goal opposite the pavilion again. The track did not begin in the circle itself, but about a hundred sazhens, or seven hundred feet, to one side; and in this space was the first obstacle, the diked "river," about three arshins, or seven feet, wide, which the racers were free to leap or to ford.
Three times the riders got into line, but each time some horse or other started before the signal, and the men had to be called back. Colonel Sestrin, the starter, was beginning to get impatient; but at last, for the fourth time, the signal was given, "Pashol!—Go!" and the riders put spurs to their horses.
All eyes, all lorgnettes, were directed toward the variegated group of racers as they started off.
"There they go!" "There they come!" was the cry on all sides after the silence of expectation.
And in order to follow them, the spectators rushed, singly or in groups, toward the places where they could get a better view. At the first moment the collected group of horsemen scattered a little, and it could be seen how they, in twos and threes, and singly, one after the other, approached the "river." To the spectators it seemed as if they were all moving together, but to the racers themselves there were seconds of separation which had great value.
Frou Frou, excited and too nervous at first, lost the ​first moment, and several of the horses were ahead of her; but Vronsky, not having yet reached the "river," and trying with all his might to calm her as she pulled on the bridle, soon easily outstripped three, and now had as competitors only Makhotin's chestnut Gladiator, which was easily and smoothly running a whole length ahead, and still more to the fore the pretty Diana, carrying Prince Kuzovlef, not knowing whether he was dead or alive.
During these first few seconds Vronsky had control neither of himself nor of his horse. Up to the first obstacle, the "river," he could not control the movements of his horse.
Gladiator and Diana reached it at almost one and the same moment. Both at once rose above the reka, or "river," and flew across to the other side. Frou Frou lightly leaped behind them, as if she had wings. The instant that Vronsky perceived that he was in the air, he caught a glimpse of Kuzovlef almost under the feet of his horse, wrestling with Diana on the other side of the "river." Kuzovlef had loosened the reins after Diana jumped, and the horse had stumbled, throwing him over her head. These details Vronsky learned afterwards, but at this time he only saw that Frou Frou might land on Diana's head or legs. But Frou Frou, like a falling cat, making a desperate effort with back and legs as she leaped, landed beyond the fallen racer.
"O you dear!" thought Vronsky.
After the reka he got full control of his horse, and even held her back a little, meaning to leap the great hurdle behind Makhotin, and to do his best to outstrip him when they reached the long stretch of about two hundred sazhens, or fourteen hundred feet, which was free of obstacles.
This great hurdle was built exactly in front of the imperial pavilion; the emperor, the court, and an immense throng were watching them, watching him and Makhotin on the horse a length ahead of him, as they approached the chort, or devil, as the barrier was called. Vronsky felt all these eyes fixed on him from every side; ​but he saw only his horse's ears and neck, the ground flying under him, and Gladiator's flanks, and white feet beating the ground in cadence, and always maintaining the same distance between them. Gladiator flew at the hurdle, gave a whisk of his well-cropped tail, and, without having touched the hurdle, vanished from Vronsky's eyes.
"Bravo!" cried a voice.
At the same instant the planks of the hurdle flashed before his eyes. Without the least change in her motion, the horse rose under him. The planks creaked and just behind him there was the sound of a thump. Frou Frou, excited by the sight of Gladiator, had leaped too soon, and had struck the hurdle with one of her hind feet, but her gait was unchanged; and Vronsky, his face splashed with mud, saw that he was still at the same distance from Gladiator, he saw once more Gladiator's crupper, his short tail, and his swiftly moving white feet.
At the very instant that Vronsky decided that he ought now to get ahead of Makhotin, Frou Frou herself comprehending his thought, and needing no stimulus, sensibly increased her speed, and gained on Makhotin by trying to take the inside track next the rope. But Makhotin did not yield this advantage. Vronsky was wondering if they could not pass on the outside, when Frou Frou, as if divining his thought, changed of her own accord and took this direction. Her shoulder, darkened with sweat, came up even with Gladiator's flank, and for several seconds they flew almost side by side; but Vronsky, before the obstacle to which they were now coming, in order not to take the outside of the great circle, began to ply his reins, and, just on the declivity, he managed to get the lead. As he drew by Makhotin he saw his mud-stained face; it even seemed to him that he smiled. Vronsky had passed Makhotin, but he was conscious that he was just behind, he was still there, within a step; and Vronsky could hear the regular rhythm of Gladiator's feet, and his hurried, but far from winded, breathing.
The next two obstacles, the ditch and the hurdle, were ​easily passed, but Gladiator's gallop and puffing came nearer, Vronsky gave Frou Frou the spur, and perceived with a thrill of joy that she easily accelerated her speed; the sound of Gladiator's hoofs was heard once more in the same relative distance behind.
He now had the lead, as he had desired, and as Cord had recommended, and he felt sure of success. His emotion, his joy, his affection for Frou Frou, were all growing more pronounced. He wanted to look back, but he did not dare to turn around, and he strove to calm himself, and not to push his horse too far, so that she might keep a reserve equal to that which he felt Gladiator still maintained.
One obstacle, the most serious, now remained; if he cleared that before the others, then he would be first in. He was now approaching the Irish banketka. He and Frou Frou at the same instant caught sight of the obstacle from afar, and both horse and man felt a moment of hesitation. Vronsky noticed the hesitation in his horse's ears, and he was just lifting his whip; but instantly he was conscious that his fears were ungrounded, the horse knew what she had to do. She got her start, and, exactly as he had foreseen, spurning the ground, she gave herself up to the force of inertia which carried her far beyond the ditch; then fell again into the measure of her pace without effort and without change.
"Bravo, Vronsky!"
He heard the acclamations of the throng. He knew it was his friends and his regiment, who were standing near this obstacle; and he could not fail to distinguish Yashvin's voice, though he did not see him.
"O my beauty!" said he to himself, thinking of Frou Frou, and yet listening to what was going on behind him. "He has cleared it," he said, as he heard Gladiator's hoof-beats behind him.
The last ditch, full of water, five feet wide, now was left. Vronsky scarcely heeded it; but, anxious to come in far ahead of the others, he began to saw on the reins, lifting her head and letting it fall again in time with the ​rhythm of her gait. He felt that the horse was beginning to draw on her last reserves; not only were her neck and her sides wet, but the sweat stood in drops on her throat, her head, and her ears; her breath was short and gasping. Still, he was sure that she had force enough to cover the fourteen hundred feet that lay between him and the goal. Only because he felt himself nearer the ground, and by the extraordinary smoothness of her motion, did Vronsky realize how much she had increased her speed. The ditch was cleared, how, he did not know.
She cleared the ditch scarcely heeding it; she cleared it like a bird. But at this moment Vronsky felt, to his horror, that, instead of taking the swing of his horse, he had made, through some inexplicable reason, a wretchedly and unpardonably wrong motion in falling back into the saddle. His position suddenly changed, and he felt that something horrible had happened. He could not give himself any clear idea of it; but there flashed by him a chestnut steed with white feet, and Makhotin by a swift leap passed him.
One of Vronsky's feet touched the ground, and his horse stumbled. He had scarcely time to clear himself when the horse fell on her side, panting painfully, and making vain efforts with her delicate foam-covered neck to rise again. But she lay on the ground, and struggled like a wounded bird; the awkward movement that he had made in the saddle had broken her back. But he did not learn this till afterwards. Now he saw only one thing, that Makhotin was far ahead, and that he was tottering there alone, standing on the muddy immovable ground, and before him, heavily panting, lay Frou Frou, who stretched her head toward him, and looked at him with her beautiful eyes. Still not realizing what had happened, Vronsky pulled on the reins. The poor animal struggled like a fish, splitting the flaps of the saddle, and tried to get up on her fore legs; but, unable to move her hind quarters, she fell back on the ground all of a tremble. Vronsky, his face pale and distorted with passion, and with trembling ​lower jaw, kicked her in the belly and again pulled at the reins. But she did not move, but gazed at her master with one of her speaking looks, and buried her nose in the sand.
"Aaah! what have I done?" cried Vronsky, taking her head in his hands. "Aaah! what have I done?" And the lost race! and his humiliating, unpardonable blunder! and the poor ruined horse! "Aaah! what have I done?"
The people's doctor and his assistant, the officers of his regiment, ran to his aid; but to his great mortification he found that he was safe and sound. The horse's back was broken and she had to be killed.
Vronsky could not answer the questions which were put to him, could not speak a word to any one; he turned away and, without picking up his cap, left the hippodrome, not knowing whither he was going. He was in despair. For the first time in his life he was the victim of a misfortune for which there was no remedy, and for which he felt that he himself was the only one to blame.
Yashvin, with his cap, overtook him and brought him back to his quarters, and in half an hour Vronsky was calm and self-possessed again; but this race was for a long time the most bitter and cruel remembrance of his life.