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"Come along, then," said the Englishman, frowning, and speaking

with his mouth shut, and, with swinging elbows, he went on in

front with his disjointed gait.

They went into the little yard in front of the shed. A stable

boy, spruce and smart in his holiday attire, met them with a

broom in his hand, and followed them. In the shed there were five

horses in their separate stalls, and Vronsky knew that his chief

rival, Gladiator, a very tall chestnut horse, had been brought

there, and must be standing among them. Even more than his mare,

Vronsky longed to see Gladiator, whom he had never seen. But he

knew that by the etiquette of the race course it was not merely

impossible for him to see the horse, but improper even to ask

questions about him. Just as he was passing along the passage,

the boy opened the door into the second horse-box on the left,

and Vronsky caught a glimpse of a big chestnut horse with white

legs. He knew that this was Gladiator, but, with the feeling of a

man turning away from the sight of another man's open letter, he

turned round and went into Frou-Frou's stall.