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During the last few days he had not ridden her out for exercise

himself, but had put her in the charge of the trainer, and so now

he positively did not know in what condition his mare had arrived

yesterday and was today. He had scarcely got out of his carriage

when his groom, the so-called "stable boy," recognizing the

carriage some way off, called the trainer. A dry-looking

Englishman, in high boots and a short jacket, clean-shaven,

except for a tuft below his chin, came to meet him, walking with

the uncouth gait of jockey, turning his elbows out and swaying

from side to side.

"Well, how's Frou-Frou?" Vronsky asked in English.

"All right, sir," the Englishman's voice responded somewhere in

the inside of his throat. "Better not go in," he added, touching

his hat. "I've put a muzzle on her, and the mare's fidgety.

Better not go in, it'll excite the mare."

"No, I'm going in. I want to look at her."