seemed to think that he had received a witty repartee from a witty man, and appreciated la pointe de la sauce.
"There are two sides to the question," Alekseï Aleksandrovitch said, resuming,—"that of the participants, and that of the spectators; and I confess that a love for such spectacles is a genuine sign of inferiority in those that look on, but ...."
"Princess, a wager," cried the voice of Stepan Arkadyevitch from below, addressing Betsy. "Which side will you take?"
"Anna and I bet on Prince Kuzovlef," replied Betsy.
"I am for Vronsky. A pair of gloves."
"Good!"
"How jolly! isn't it?"
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch stopped speaking while this conversation was going on around him, and then he began anew:—
"I confess, unmanly games ...."
But at this instant the signal of departure was heard, and all conversation ceased. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch also ceased speaking; and every one stood up so as to look at the "river." But Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was not interested in the race, and so, instead of watching the riders, looked around the assembly with weary eyes. His gaze fell on his wife.
Her face was pale and stern. She evidently saw nothing and no one—except one person. Her hands convulsively clutched her fan; she held her breath. Karenin looked at her, then hastily turned away, gazing at the faces of other women.
"There is another lady very much moved, and still another just the same; it is very natural," said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch to himself. He did not wish to look at her; but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to her face. He once more gazed into her face, trying not to read in it what was so plainly pictured on it, and against his will he read, with feelings of horror, all that he had tried to ignore.
When Kuzovlef fell at the " river," the excitement
