“Is it really only negative?” he repeated to himself. “Well, what of it? It’s
not my fault.” And he began thinking about the next day.
“Tomorrow I’ll go out early, and I’ll make a point of keeping cool. There
are lots of snipe; and there are grouse too. When I come back there’ll be the
note from Kitty. Yes, Stiva may be right, I’m not manly with her, I’m tied to
her apron-strings…. Well, it can’t be helped! Negative again….”
Half asleep, he heard the laughter and mirthful talk of Veslovsky and
Stepan Arkadyevitch. For an instant he opened his eyes: the moon was up,
and in the open doorway, brightly lighted up by the moonlight, they were
standing talking. Stepan Arkadyevitch was saying something of the
freshness of one girl, comparing her to a freshly peeled nut, and Veslovsky
with his infectious laugh was repeating some words, probably said to him
by a peasant: “Ah, you do your best to get round her!” Levin, half asleep,
said:
“Gentlemen, tomorrow before daylight!” and fell asleep.
Chapter 12
Waking up at earliest dawn, Levin tried to wake his companions.
Vassenka, lying on his stomach, with one leg in a stocking thrust out, was
sleeping so soundly that he could elicit no response. Oblonsky, half asleep,
declined to get up so early. Even Laska, who was asleep, curled up in the
hay, got up unwillingly, and lazily stretched out and straightened her hind
legs one after the other. Getting on his boots and stockings, taking his gun,
and carefully opening the creaking door of the barn, Levin went out into the
road. The coachmen were sleeping in their carriages, the horses were
dozing. Only one was lazily eating oats, dipping its nose into the manger. It
was still gray out-of-doors.
“Why are you up so early, my dear?” the old woman, their hostess, said,
coming out of the hut and addressing him affectionately as an old friend.
“Going shooting, granny. Do I go this way to the marsh?”
“Straight out at the back; by our threshing floor, my dear, and hemp
patches; there’s a little footpath.” Stepping carefully with her sunburnt, bare
feet, the old woman conducted Levin, and moved back the fence for him by
the threshing floor.
“Straight on and you’ll come to the marsh. Our lads drove the cattle there
yesterday evening.”
Laska ran eagerly forward along the little path. Levin followed her with a
light, rapid step, continually looking at the sky. He hoped the sun would not
be up before he reached the marsh. But the sun did not delay. The moon,
which had been bright when he went out, by now shone only like a crescent
of quicksilver. The pink flush of dawn, which one could not help seeing
before, now had to be sought to be discerned at all. What were before
undefined, vague blurs in the distant countryside could now be distinctly
seen. They were sheaves of rye. The dew, not visible till the sun was up,
wetted Levin’s legs and his blouse above his belt in the high growing,
fragrant hemp patch, from which the pollen had already fallen out. In the
transparent stillness of morning the smallest sounds were audible. A bee
flew by Levin’s ear with the whizzing sound of a bullet. He looked
carefully, and saw a second and a third. They were all flying from the
beehives behind the hedge, and they disappeared over the hemp patch in the
direction of the marsh. The path led straight to the marsh. The marsh could
be recognized by the mist which rose from it, thicker in one place and
thinner in another, so that the reeds and willow bushes swayed like islands
in this mist. At the edge of the marsh and the road, peasant boys and men,
who had been herding for the night, were lying, and in the dawn all were
asleep under their coats. Not far from them were three hobbled horses. One
of them clanked a chain. Laska walked beside her master, pressing a little
forward and looking round. Passing the sleeping peasants and reaching the
first reeds, Levin examined his pistols and let his dog off. One of the horses,
a sleek, dark-brown three-year-old, seeing the dog, started away, switched
its tail and snorted. The other horses too were frightened, and splashing
through the water with their hobbled legs, and drawing their hoofs out of
the thick mud with a squelching sound, they bounded out of the marsh.
Laska stopped, looking ironically at the horses and inquiringly at Levin.
Levin patted Laska, and whistled as a sign that she might begin.
Laska ran joyfully and anxiously through the slush that swayed under
her.
Running into the marsh among the familiar scents of roots, marsh plants,
and slime, and the extraneous smell of horse dung, Laska detected at once a
smell that pervaded the whole marsh, the scent of that strong-smelling bird
that always excited her more than any other. Here and there among the
moss and marsh plants this scent was very strong, but it was impossible to
determine in which direction it grew stronger or fainter. To find the
direction, she had to go farther away from the wind. Not feeling the motion
of her legs, Laska bounded with a stiff gallop, so that at each bound she
could stop short, to the right, away from the wind that blew from the east
before sunrise, and turned facing the wind. Sniffing in the air with dilated
nostrils, she felt at once that not their tracks only but they themselves were
here before her, and not one, but many. Laska slackened her speed. They
were here, but where precisely she could not yet determine. To find the very
spot, she began to make a circle, when suddenly her master’s voice drew
her off. “Laska! here?” he asked, pointing her to a different direction. She
stopped, asking him if she had better not go on doing as she had begun. But
he repeated his command in an angry voice, pointing to a spot covered with
water, where there could not be anything. She obeyed him, pretending she
was looking, so as to please him, went round it, and went back to her
former position, and was at once aware of the scent again. Now when he
was not hindering her, she knew what to do, and without looking at what
was under her feet, and to her vexation stumbling over a high stump into the
water, but righting herself with her strong, supple legs, she began making
the circle which was to make all clear to her. The scent of them reached her,
stronger and stronger, and more and more defined, and all at once it became
perfectly clear to her that one of them was here, behind this tuft of reeds,
five paces in front of her; she stopped, and her whole body was still and
rigid. On her short legs she could see nothing in front of her, but by the
scent she knew it was sitting not more than five paces off. She stood still,
feeling more and more conscious of it, and enjoying it in anticipation. Her
tail was stretched straight and tense, and only wagging at the extreme end.
Her mouth was slightly open, her ears raised. One ear had been turned
wrong side out as she ran up, and she breathed heavily but warily, and still
more warily looked round, but more with her eyes than her head, to her
master. He was coming along with the face she knew so well, though the
eyes were always terrible to her. He stumbled over the stump as he came,
and moved, as she thought, extraordinarily slowly. She thought he came
slowly, but he was running.
Noticing Laska’s special attitude as she crouched on the ground, as it
were, scratching big prints with her hind paws, and with her mouth slightly
open, Levin knew she was pointing at grouse, and with an inward prayer for
luck, especially with the first bird, he ran up to her. Coming quite close up
to her, he could from his height look beyond her, and he saw with his eyes
what she was seeing with her nose. In a space between two little thickets, at
a couple of yards’ distance, he could see a grouse. Turning its head, it was
listening. Then lightly preening and folding its wings, it disappeared round
a corner with a clumsy wag of its tail.
“Fetch it, fetch it!” shouted Levin, giving Laska a shove from behind.
“But I can’t go,” thought Laska. “Where am I to go? From here I feel
them, but if I move forward I shall know nothing of where they are or who
they are.” But then he shoved her with his knee, and in an excited whisper
said, “Fetch it, Laska.”
“Well, if that’s what he wishes, I’ll do it, but I can’t answer for myself
now,” she thought, and darted forward as fast as her legs would carry her
between the thick bushes. She scented nothing now; she could only see and
hear, without understanding anything.
Ten paces from her former place a grouse rose with a guttural cry and the
peculiar round sound of its wings. And immediately after the shot it
splashed heavily with its white breast on the wet mire. Another bird did not
linger, but rose behind Levin without the dog. When Levin turned towards
it, it was already some way off. But his shot caught it. Flying twenty paces
further, the second grouse rose upwards, and whirling round like a ball,
dropped heavily on a dry place.
“Come, this is going to be some good!” thought Levin, packing the warm
and fat grouse into his game bag. “Eh, Laska, will it be good?”
When Levin, after loading his gun, moved on, the sun had fully risen,
though unseen behind the storm-clouds. The moon had lost all of its luster,
and was like a white cloud in the sky. Not a single star could be seen. The
sedge, silvery with dew before, now shone like gold. The stagnant pools
were all like amber. The blue of the grass had changed to yellow-green. The
marsh birds twittered and swarmed about the brook and upon the bushes
that glittered with dew and cast long shadows. A hawk woke up and settled
