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The mare's excitement had infected Vronsky. He felt that his

heart was throbbing, and that he, too, like the mare, longed to

move, to bite; it was both dreadful and delicious.

"Well, I rely on you, then," he said to the Englishman;

"half-past six on the ground."

"All right," said the Englishman. "Oh, where are you going, my

lord?" he asked suddenly, using the title "my lord," which he had

scarcely ever used before.

Vronsky in amazement raised his head, and stared, as he knew how

to stare, not into the Englishman's eyes, but at his forehead,

astounded at the impertinence of his question. But realizing that

in asking this the Englishman had been looking at him not as an

employer, but as a jockey, he answered:

"I've got to go to Bryansky's; I shall be home within an hour."

"How often I'm asked that question today!" he said to himself,

and he blushed, a thing which rarely happened to him. The

Englishman looked gravely at him; and, as though he, too, knew

where Vronsky was going, he added: