Cord, in honor of the races, had put on his best clothes, a black coat buttoned up, a stiffly starched collar, which propped up his cheeks, a round black hat, and top boots.

He was calm and dignified as ever, and was with his own hands holding Frou-Frou by both reins, standing straight in front of her.

Frou-Frou was still trembling as though in a fever.

Her eye, full of fire, glanced sideways at Vronsky.

Vronsky slipped his finger under the saddle-girth.