Chapter 22

           Theraindidnotlastlong,andbythetimeVronskyarrived,hisshaft-horsetrottingatfullspeedanddraggingthetrace-horsesgallopingthroughthemud,withtheirreinshangingloose,thesunhadpeepedoutagain,theroofsofthesummervillasandtheoldlimetreesinthegardensonbothsidesoftheprincipalstreetssparkledwithwetbrilliance,andfromthetwigscameapleasantdripandfromtheroofsrushingstreamsofwater.Hethoughtnomoreoftheshowerspoilingtheracecourse,butwasrejoicingnowthat—thankstotherain—hewouldbesuretofindherathomeandalone,asheknewthatAlexeyAlexandrovitch,whohadlatelyreturnedfromaforeignwateringplace,hadnotmovedfromPetersburg.

           Hopingtofindheralone,Vronskyalighted,ashealwaysdid,toavoidattractingattention,beforecrossingthebridge,andwalkedtothehouse.Hedidnotgoupthestepstothestreetdoor,butwentintothecourt.

           “Hasyourmastercome?”heaskedagardener.

           “No,sir.Themistressisathome.Butwillyoupleasegotothefrontdoor;thereareservantsthere,”thegardeneranswered.“They’llopenthedoor.”

           “No,I’llgoinfromthegarden.”

           Andfeelingsatisfiedthatshewasalone,andwantingtotakeherbysurprise,sincehehadnotpromisedtobetheretoday,andshewouldcertainlynotexpecthimtocomebeforetheraces,hewalked,holdinghisswordandsteppingcautiouslyoverthesandypath,borderedwithflowers,totheterracethatlookedoutuponthegarden.Vronskyforgotnowallthathehadthoughtonthewayofthehardshipsanddifficultiesoftheirposition.