Seventeen officers, looking serious and severe, many with pale faces, met together in the pavilion and drew the numbers.

Vronsky drew the number seven.

The cry was heard: "Mount!" Feeling that with the others riding in the race, he was the center upon which all eyes were fastened, Vronsky walked up to his mare in that state of nervous tension in which he usually became deliberate and composed in his movements.

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.