encouraging and approving nod. One only he now failed to see: his most redoubtable rival, Makhotin, on Gladiator, was not there.
"Don't be in haste," said Cord to Vronsky, "and remember one thing: when you come to a hurdle, don't pull back or spur on your horse; let her take it her own way."
"Very good," replied Vronsky, taking the reins.
"If possible, take the lead, but don't be discouraged even to the last if you are behind."
The horse did not have time to stir before Vronsky, with supple and powerful movement, put his foot on the notched steel stirrup, and gracefully, firmly, took his seat in the squeaking leather saddle. Having put his right foot in the stirrup, with his customary care he then arranged the double reins between his fingers, and Cord let go the animal's head. Frou Frou, as if not knowing which foot to put down first, stretched out her neck, and pulled on the reins, and she started off as if on springs, balancing her rider on her supple back. Cord, quickening his pace, followed them. The mare, excited, jumped to right and left, trying to take her master off his guard, and pulled at the reins, and Vronsky vainly endeavored to calm her with his voice and with his hand.
They were approaching the diked bank of the river, where the starting-post was placed. Some of the riders had gone on ahead, others were riding behind, when Vronsky suddenly heard on the muddy track the gallop of a horse; and Makhotin dashed by on his white-footed, lop-eared Gladiator. Makhotin smiled, showing his long teeth, but Vronsky looked at him angrily. He did not like Makhotin any too well, and now he regarded him as his most dangerous rival; and he was exasperated at the way he galloped up behind him, exciting his mare.
Frou Frou kicked up her heels and started off at a gallop, made two bounds, and then, angry at the restraint of the curb, changed her gait into a trot which shook up her rider. Cord was also disgusted, and ran almost as fast as Vronsky.
