Page 394 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

Vronsky took the letter and his brother’s note. It was
the letter he was expecting—from his mother, reproaching
him for not having been to see her—and the note was
from his brother to say that he must have a little talk with

him. Vronsky knew that it was all about the same thing.
‘What business is it of theirs!’ thought Vronsky, and
crumpling up the letters he thrust them between the
buttons of his coat so as to read them carefully on the
road. In the porch of the hut he was met by two officers;
one of his regiment and one of another.
Vronsky’s quarters were always a meeting place for all
the officers.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘I must go to Peterhof.’
‘Has the mare come from Tsarskoe?’
‘Yes, but I’ve not seen her yet.’
‘They say Mahotin’s Gladiator’s lame.’
‘Nonsense! But however are you going to race in this
mud?’ said the other.
‘Here are my saviors!’ cried Petritsky, seeing them
come in. Before him stood the orderly with a tray of
brandy and salted cucumbers. ‘Here’s Yashvin ordering me
a drink a pick-me-up.’

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