Middle of winter in tsarist Russia. There's a ball going on, and your family has decided to check out the candidates for your husband. There were already three suitors, but you didn't seem too interested.

Your eyes kept darting to the young officer, Count Vronsky, who was standing on the other side of the ballroom and sending you smiles. Why did life have to be so unfair? Why wasn't he one of the suitors?