Anna Karenina

lthough all Vronsky’s inner life was absorbed in his passion, his
external life unalterably and inevitably followed along the old
accustomed lines of his social and regimental ties and interests. The
interests of his regiment took an important place in Vronsky’s life,
both because he was fond of the regiment, and because the regiment was
fond of him. They were not only fond of Vronsky in his regiment, they
respected him too, and were proud of him; proud that this man, with his
immense wealth, his brilliant education and abilities, and the path
open before him to every kind of success, distinction, and ambition,
had disregarded all that, and of all the interests of life had the
interests of his regiment and his comrades nearest to his heart.
Vronsky was aware of his comrades’ view of him, and in addition to his
liking for the life, he felt bound to keep up that reputation.

It need not be said that he did not speak of his love to any of his
comrades, nor did he betray his secret even in the wildest drinking
bouts (though indeed he was never so drunk as to lose all control of
himself). And he shut up any of his thoughtless comrades who attempted
to allude to his connection. But in spite of that, his love was known
to all the town; everyone guessed with more or less confidence at his
relations with Madame Karenina. The majority of the younger men envied
him for just what was the most irksome factor in his love—the exalted
position of Karenin, and the consequent publicity of their connection
in society.

The greater number of the young women, who envied Anna and had long
been weary of hearing her called virtuous, rejoiced at the
fulfillment of their predictions, and were only waiting for a decisive
turn in public opinion to fall upon her with all the weight of their
scorn. They were already making ready their handfuls of mud to fling at
her when the right moment arrived. The greater number of the
middle-aged people and certain great personages were displeased at the
prospect of the impending scandal in society.

Vronsky’s mother, on hearing of his connection, was at first pleased at
it, because nothing to her mind gave such a finishing touch to a
brilliant young man as a liaison in the highest society; she was
pleased, too, that Madame Karenina, who had so taken her fancy, and had
talked so much of her son, was, after all, just like all other pretty
and well-bred women,—at least according to the Countess Vronskaya’s
ideas. But she had heard of late that her son had refused a position
offered him of great importance to his career, simply in order to
remain in the regiment, where he could be constantly seeing Madame
Karenina. She learned that great personages were displeased with him on
this account, and she changed her opinion. She was vexed, too, that
from all she could learn of this connection it was not that brilliant,
graceful, worldly liaison which she would have welcomed, but a sort
of Wertherish, desperate passion, so she was told, which might well
lead him into imprudence. She had not seen him since his abrupt
departure from Moscow, and she sent her elder son to bid him come to
see her.

This elder son, too, was displeased with his younger brother. He did
not distinguish what sort of love his might be, big or little,
passionate or passionless, lasting or passing (he kept a ballet girl
himself, though he was the father of a family, so he was lenient in
these matters), but he knew that this love affair was viewed with
displeasure by those whom it was necessary to please, and therefore he
did not approve of his brother’s conduct.

Besides the service and society, Vronsky had another great
interest—horses; he was passionately fond of horses.

That year races and a steeplechase had been arranged for the officers.
Vronsky had put his name down, bought a thoroughbred English mare, and
in spite of his love affair, he was looking forward to the races with
intense, though reserved, excitement....

These two passions did not interfere with one another. On the contrary,
he needed occupation and distraction quite apart from his love, so as
to recruit and rest himself from the violent emotions that agitated
him.