Page 439 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

stir, but thrusting her nose into the ground, she simply
gazed at her master with her speaking eyes.
‘A—a—a!’ groaned Vronsky, clutching at his head.
‘Ah! what have I done!’ he cried. ‘The race lost! And my

fault! shameful, unpardonable! And the poor darling,
ruined mare! Ah! what have I done!’
A crowd of men, a doctor and his assistant, the officers
of his regiment, ran up to him. To his misery he felt that
he was whole and unhurt. The mare had broken her back,
and it was decided to shoot her. Vronsky could not answer
questions, could not speak to anyone. He turned, and
without picking up his cap that had fallen off, walked
away from the race course, not knowing where he was
going. He felt utterly wretched. For the first time in his
life he knew the bitterest sort of misfortune, misfortune
beyond remedy, and caused by his own fault.
Yashvin overtook him with his cap, and led him home,
and half an hour later Vronsky had regained his self-
possession. But the memory of that race remained for long
in his heart, the cruelest and bitterest memory of his life.

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