Читать книгу Anna Karenina - 2 Classic Unabridged Translations in one eBook (Garnett and Maude translations) - Leo Tolstoy - Страница 67

SEVENTEEN officers in all had entered for the steeplechase. It was to take place on the large four-verst elliptical course in front of the pavilion. On that course there were nine obstacles: the brook; a barrier nearly five feet high just in front of the pavilion; a dry ditch; a water-jump; an incline; an Irish bank (one of the most difficult obstacles), consisting of a bank with brushwood on top, beyond which there was another ditch which the horses could not see, so that they had to clear both obstacles or come to grief; then two more water-jumps, and another dry ditch. The winning-post was opposite the pavilion. But the start was not in the ellipse, but about 250 yards to one side of it, and the first obstacle, the dammed-up brook seven feet wide, was there. The riders could either ford or jump it at their discretion.

Three times the riders drew up in line, but each time some one’s horse made a false start and they had to line up again. Colonel Sestrin, an expert starter, was already getting angry, but at last, at the fourth try, he shouted ‘Go!’ and the race began.

All eyes and all glasses were turned on the bright group of riders while they were getting into line.

‘They have started! They are off!’ was heard from every side after the hush of expectation.

Onlookers, in groups or singly, started running from place to place to get a better view. In the first minute the group of riders began to stretch out and could be seen in twos and threes, and one behind another, approaching the brook. It had looked to the public as if they had all started together, but the riders were aware of a difference of seconds which to them were of great importance.

The excited and over-nervous Frou-Frou lost in the first moment, and several horses started ahead of her, but before reaching the brook Vronsky, who with all his strength was holding back the mare that was tugging at the reins, had easily passed three riders, and ahead of him there was only Makhotin’s chestnut Gladiator (whose hindquarters moved regularly and lightly just in front of him), and in front of all, the exquisite Diana, carrying Kusovlev, who was more dead than alive.

In the first moments Vronsky was master neither of himself nor of his mare. Up to the first obstacle, the brook, he could not control her movements.

Gladiator and Diana approached the stream together, and almost at the same moment rose above it and flew across to the other side; lightly as if on wings Frou-Frou rose up behind them; but at the moment when Vronsky felt himself raised in the air he suddenly saw, almost under his horse’s feet, Kusovlev, who was floundering on the other side of the stream with his Diana (Kusovlev had let go of the reins at the jump and the horse fell, throwing him over her head). These particulars Vronsky learned later, now he only saw that Diana’s head or legs might come just where Frou-Frou had to alight. But Frou-Frou, like a falling cat, made an effort with her legs and back while in the air, and clearing the other horse rushed on.

‘Oh, you darling!’ thought Vronsky.

After crossing the brook Vronsky had the mare quite under control, and held her in, intending to cross the big barrier behind Makhotin and then to try and pass him on the flat 300 yards before the next obstacle.

The big barrier was right in front of the Imperial Pavilion. The Emperor, the whole Court, and crowds of people were all looking at them — at him and at Makhotin, who was a full length ahead of him when they approached the Devil (as the solid barrier was called). Vronsky felt eyes directed toward him from all sides, but he saw nothing except the ears and neck of his mare, the ground racing toward him, and Gladiator’s hindquarters and white legs rapidly striding before him, and keeping always the same distance ahead. Gladiator rose without touching anything, swished his short tail, and disappeared from Vronsky’s sight.

‘Bravo!’ shouted a single voice.

Just then the boards of the barrier flashed close before Vronsky’s eyes. Without the least change in her action his mare rose under him; the boards disappeared, only behind him there was a knock. Excited by the fact that Gladiator was in front, the mare had risen at the barrier a little too soon and had struck it with a hind hoof. But her pace did not change, and Vronsky, hit in the face by a lump of mud, realized that he was again at the same distance behind Gladiator. He again saw before him that horse’s hindquarters, short tail and flashing white legs, no farther away.

At the very moment that Vronsky thought it time to pass Makhotin, Frou-Frou, understanding what was in his mind, without any urging, considerably increased her speed and began to draw nearer to Makhotin on the side where it was most advantageous to pass him — the side of the rope. Makhotin would not let her pass that side. Vronsky had just time to think of coming up on the outside, when Frou-Frou changed her legs and started to do so. Frou-Frou’s shoulder, which was already growing dark with sweat, was on a level with Gladiator’s hindquarters. They ran side by side for a few strides, but before the obstacle they were approaching, Vronsky, not to lose ground, gave the mare her head and just on the declivity passed Makhotin. He caught sight of his mud-bespattered face, and even thought he saw him smile. He passed, but felt that Makhotin was close behind him, and continually heard just behind his back the regular beating of hoofs and the short, still fresh breathing of Gladiator’s nostrils.

The next two obstacles, a ditch and a fence, were easily passed, but Vronsky heard Gladiator galloping and snorting closer. He urged on his mare and felt with joy that she easily increased her speed, and he heard the sound of Gladiator’s hoofs again at the former distance behind.

Vronsky now had the lead, as he had wished and as Cord had advised, and he was confident of success. His excitement and joy, and his tenderness for Frou-Frou, grew stronger and stronger. He wished to glance round but dared not do so, and he tried to keep calm and not to urge his mare, but to let her retain a reserve of strength such as he felt that Gladiator still had.

There remained the most difficult obstacle; if he crossed it ahead of the others, he would come in first. He was galloping up to the Irish bank. He and Frou-Frou both saw the bank while still some way off and to both of them came a momentary doubt. He noticed the mare’s hesitation by her ears and raised his whip, but immediately felt that his doubt was groundless: the mare knew what was wanted, and, as he expected, she increased her speed, took off exactly at the right moment, and gave a leap the force of which carried her far across the ditch. Then without effort and without changing her legs Frou-Frou continued her gallop.

‘Bravo, Vronsky!’ he heard the voices of a knot of people he knew — friends of his regiment — who were standing by this obstacle. He could not fail to recognize Yashvin’s voice, though he did not see him.

‘Oh, my beauty!’ he thought of Frou-Frou, as he listened to what was happening behind. ‘He is over it!’ he thought, as he heard Gladiator again galloping behind him. There remained one last water-jump, only a yard and a half wide. Vronsky did not even look at it, but hoping to win by a distance, began working the reins with a circular movement, raising and dropping the mare’s head in time with her stride. He felt the mare was using her last reserve of strength; not only her neck and shoulders were wet, but on her withers, her head, and her pointed ears the sweat stood in drops, and she was breathing short and sharp. But he knew that her reserve of strength was more than enough for the remaining five hundred yards. It was only by feeling himself nearer to the ground and by the smoothness of the pace that Vronsky knew how much the mare had increased her speed. She leapt the ditch as if she did not notice it, seeming to fly across it like a bird. But at that very moment Vronsky, to his horror, felt that something terrible had happened. He himself, without knowing it, had made the unpardonable mistake of dropping back in his saddle and pulling up her head. Before he could realize this, the white legs of the gelding flashed close by him and Makhotin passed at a rapid gallop. Vronsky was touching the ground with one foot. He scarcely had time to withdraw the foot before Frou-Frou fell on her side, and snorting heavily and with her delicate damp neck making vain efforts to rise, began struggling on the ground at his feet, like a wounded, fluttering bird. Owing to Vronsky’s awkward movement she had dropped her hind legs and broken her back. But he only understood this much later. Now he only saw that Makhotin was quickly galloping away, while he, reeling, stood alone on the muddy, stationary ground; before him, breathing heavily, lay Frou-Frou, who, bending her head toward him, gazed at him with her beautiful eyes. Still not understanding what had happened, Vronsky pulled at the reins. The mare again began to struggle like a fish, causing the flaps of the saddle to creak; she got her front legs free, but unable to lift her hindquarters, struggled and immediately again fell on her side.

His face distorted with passion, pale and with quivering jaw, Vronsky kicked her with his heel in the belly and again pulled at the reins. But she did not move and, muzzling the ground, only looked at her master with eloquent eyes.

‘Ah, ah, ah!’ groaned Vronsky, seizing his head. ‘Ah! what have I done?’ he exclaimed. ‘The race lost! And the fault mine — shameful and unpardonable. And this dear, unfortunate mare ruined! Ah! what have I done!’

Onlookers, a doctor, an attendant, and officers of his regiment ran toward him. To his regret he felt that he was himself sound and unhurt. The mare had broken her back, and it was decided to shoot her. Vronsky was unable to reply to questions or to speak to anyone. He turned away and, without picking up the cap that had fallen from his head, left the racecourse without knowing where he was going. He felt miserable. For the first time in his life he experienced the worst kind of misfortune — one that was irretrievable, and caused by his own fault.

Yashvin overtook him with his cap and led him home, and in half an hour Vronsky came to himself. But the memory of that steeplechase long remained the most painful and distressing memory of his life.