When he saw Karenin, with his fresh Petersburg face, his sternly self-confident figure, his round hat and his slightly rounded back, Vronsky believed in his existence, and had such a disagreeable sensation as a man tortured by thirst might feel on reaching a spring and finding a dog, sheep, or pig in it, drinking the water and making it muddy.
Aquel frío rostro de petersburgués, aquel aire indiferente y seguro, aquel sombrero redondo, aquella espalda ligeramente encorvada, aquel conjunto era una realidad y Vronsky había de reconocerlo, pero lo reconocía como un hombre que, muriendo de sed, al encontrarse con una fuente de agua pura descubriera que estaba ensuciada por un perro, un cerdo o una vaca que habían bebido en ella.