The coachman went on the outrunner, and Levin drove the pair himself.
IX
‘Well, what’s our itinerary? Tell us all about it,’ said Stepan Arkadyich.
‘The plan is the following: right now we’re going as far as Gvozdevo.1 In Gvozdevo there’s a marsh with great snipe on the near side, and beyond Gvozdevo there are wonderful snipe marshes, with occasional great snipe. It’s hot now, but we’ll arrive towards evening (it’s twelve miles) and do the evening field. We’ll spend the night, and tomorrow we’ll go to the big marsh.’
‘And there’s nothing on the way?’
‘There is, but that would delay us, and it’s hot. There are two nice spots, though
Levin himself would have liked to stop at those spots, but they were close to home, he could do them any time, and they were small - three men would have no room to shoot. And so it was with some duplicity that he said it was not likely there would be anything. Coming to the small marsh, he was going to pass by,
‘Won’t we try there?’ he said, pointing to the marsh.
‘Levin, please! how splendid!’ Vasenka Veslovsky started begging, and Levin had to consent.
No sooner had they stopped than the dogs, vying with each other, were already racing for the marsh.
‘Krak! Laska! ...’
The dogs came back.
‘It’s too small for three. I’ll stay here,’ said Levin, hoping they would find nothing but the lapwings that had been stirred up by the dogs and, swaying as they flew, wept plaintively over the marsh.
‘No! Come on, Levin, let’s go together!’ called Vasenka.
‘It’s really too small. Here, Laska! Here! You don’t need two dogs, do you?’
Levin stayed by the wagonette and watched the hunters with envy. They went all around the marsh. Except for a water hen and some lapwings, one of which Vasenka bagged, there was nothing there.
‘So you see, it wasn’t that I grudged you this marsh,’ said Levin, ‘it was just a loss of time.’
‘No, it was fun all the same. Did you see?’ said Vasenka Veslovsky, awkwardly getting up on the cart with his gun and the lapwing in his hands. ‘I bagged this one nicely! Isn’t it true? Well, how soon will we get to the real place?’
Suddenly the horses gave a start. Levin hit his head against the barrel of somebody’s gun and a shot rang out. So it seemed to Levin, but in fact the shot came first. The thing was that Vasenka Veslovsky, while uncocking the hammers, had his finger on one trigger as he eased off the other. The shot struck the ground, doing no one any harm. Stepan Arkadyich shook his head and laughed reproachfully at Veslovsky. But Levin did not have the heart to reprimand him. First, any reproach would seem to be caused by the danger he had escaped and the bump swelling on his forehead; and second, Veslovsky began by being so naïvely upset and then laughed so good-naturedly and enthusiastically at the general commotion that it was impossible not to laugh with him.
When they drove up to the second marsh, which was quite big and was bound to take a long time, Levin tried to persuade them not to go in, but Veslovsky again insisted. Again, since the marsh was narrow, Levin, as a hospitable host, stayed by the carriages.
Krak made straight for the hummocks. Vasenka Veslovsky was the first to run after the dog. And before Stepan Arkadyich had time to get close, a great snipe had already flown up. Veslovsky missed and the snipe landed in an unmowed meadow. This snipe was left to Veslovsky. Krak found it again, pointed, Veslovsky shot it and went back to the carriages.
‘Now you go and I’ll stay with the horses,’ he said.
Hunter’s envy was beginning to take hold of Levin. He handed the reins to Veslovsky and went into the marsh.
Laska, who had long been squealing pitifully and complaining at the injustice, rushed ahead, straight to some trusty hummocks, familiar to Levin, where Krak had not yet gone.
‘Why don’t you stop her?’ cried Stepan Arkadyich.
‘She won’t scare them,’ replied Levin, delighted with the dog and hurrying after her.
Laska’s search became more serious the closer she came to the familiar hummocks. A small marsh bird distracted her only for an instant. She made one circle in front of the hummocks, began another, suddenly gave a start and froze.
‘Here, here, Stiva!’ cried Levin, feeling his heart pounding faster, and it was as if some latch had suddenly opened in his strained hearing, and sounds, losing all measure of distance, began to strike him haphazardly but vividly. He heard Stepan Arkadyich’s footsteps and took them for the distant clatter of horses, heard the crunching sound made by the corner of a hummock that he tore off with its roots as he stepped on it and took the sound for the flight of a great snipe. He also heard, not far behind him, some splashing in the water which he could not account for.
Picking his way, he moved towards the dog.
‘Flush it!’
