He felt utterly wretched.

For the first time in his life he knew the bitterest sort of misfortune, misfortune beyond remedy, and caused by his own fault.

Yashvin overtook him with his cap, and led him home, and half an hour later Vronsky had regained his self-possession.

But the memory of that race remained for long in his heart, the cruelest and bitterest memory of his life.

The external relations of Alexey Alexandrovitch and his wife had remained unchanged.