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Chapter 15


The place fixed on for the stand-shooting was not far above a
stream in a little aspen copse. On reaching the copse, Levin got
out of the trap and led Oblonsky to a corner of a mossy, swampy
glade, already quite free from snow. He went back himself to a
double birch tree on the other side, and leaning his gun on the
fork of a dead lower branch, he took off his full overcoat,
fastened his belt again, and worked his arms to see if they were
free.

Gray old Laska, who had followed them, sat down warily opposite
him and pricked up her ears. The sun was setting behind a thick
forest, and in the glow of sunset the birch trees, dotted about
in the aspen copse, stood out clearly with their hanging twigs,
and their buds swollen almost to bursting.

From the thickest parts of the copse, where the snow still
remained, came the faint sound of narrow winding threads of water
running away. Tiny birds twittered, and now and then fluttered
from tree to tree.

In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last
year's leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth
of the grass.

"Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!" Levin said
to himself, noticing a wet, slate-colored aspen leaf moving
beside a blade of young grass. He stood, listened, and gazed
sometimes down at the wet mossy ground, sometimes at Laska
listening all alert, sometimes at the sea of bare tree tops that
stretched on the slope below him, sometimes at the darkening sky,
covered with white streaks of cloud.

A hawk flew high over a forest far away with slow sweep of its
wings; another flew with exactly the same motion in the same
direction and vanished. The birds twittered more and more loudly
and busily in the thicket. An owl hooted not far off, and Laska,
starting, stepped cautiously a few steps forward, and putting her
head on one side, began to listen intently. Beyond the stream
was heard the cuckoo. Twice she uttered her usual cuckoo call,
and then gave a hoarse, hurried call and broke down.

"Imagine! the cuckoo already!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming
out from behind a bush.

"Yes, In hear it," answered Levin, reluctantly breaking the
stillness with his voice, which sounded disagreeable to himself.
"Now it's coming!"

Stepan Arkadyevitch's figure again went behind the bush, and
Levin saw nothing but the bright flash of a match, followed by
the red glow and blue smoke of a cigarette.

"Tchk! tchk!" came the snapping sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch
cocking his gun.

"What's that cry?" asked Oblonsky, drawing Levin's attention to
a prolonged cry, as though a colt were whinnying in a high voice,
in play.

"Oh, don't you know it? That's the hare. But enough talking!
Listen, it's flying!" almost shrieked Levin, cocking his gun.

They heard a shrill whistle in the distance, and in the exact
time, so well known to the sportsman, two seconds later--
another, a third, and after the third whistle the hoarse,
guttural cry could be heard.

Levin looked about him to right and to left, and there, just
facing him against the dusky blue sky above the confused mass of
tender shoots of the aspens, he saw the flying bird. It was
flying straight towards him; the guttural cry, like the even
tearing of some strong stuff, sounded close to his ear; the long
beak and neck of the bird could be seen, and at the very
instant when Levin was taking aim, behind the bush where Oblonsky
stood, there was a flash of red lightning: the bird dropped like
an arrow, and darted upwards again. Again came the red flash and
the sound of a blow, and fluttering its wings as though trying to
keep up in the air, the bird halted, stopped still and instant,
and fell with a heavy splash on the slushy ground.

"Can I have missed it?" shouted Stepan Arkadyevitch, who could
not see for the smoke.

"Here it is!" said Levin, pointing to Laska, who with one ear
raised, wagging the end of her shaggy tail, came slowly back as
though she would prolong the pleasure, and as it were smiling,
brought the dead bird to her master. "Well, I'm glad you were
successful," said Levin, who, at the same time, had a sense of
envy that he had not succeeded in shooting the snipe.

"It was a bad shot from the right barrel," responded Stepan
Arkadyevitch, loading his gun. "Sh...it's flying!"

The shrill whistles rapidly following one another were heard
again. Two snipe, playing and chasing one another, and only
whistling, not crying, flew straight at the very heads of the
sportsmen. There was the report of four shots, and like swallows
the snipe turned swift somersaults in the air and vanished from
sight.


The stand-shooting was capital. Stepan Arkadyevitch shot two
more birds and Levin two, of which one was not found. It began
to get dark. Venus, bright and silvery, shone with her soft
light low down in the west behind the birch trees, and high up in
the east twinkled the red lights of Arcturus. Over his head
Levin made out the stars of the Great Bear and lost them again.
The snipe had ceased flying; but Levin resolved to stay a little
longer, till Venus, which he saw below a branch if birch, should
be above it, and the stars of the Great Bear should be perfectly
plain. Venus had risen above the branch, and the ear of the
Great Bear with its shaft was now all plainly visible against the
dark blue sky, yet still he waited.

"Isn't it time to go home?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch.

It was quite still now in the copse, and not a bird was stirring.

"Let's stay a little while," answered Levin.

"As you like."

They were standing now about fifteen paces from one another.

"Stiva!" said Levin unexpectedly; "how is it you don't tell me
whether your sister-in-law's married yet, or when she's going to
be?"

Levin felt so resolute and serene that no answer, he fancied,
could affect him. But he had never dreamed of what Stepan
Arkadyevitch replied.

"She's never thought of being married, and isn't thinking of it;
but she's very ill, and the doctors have sent her abroad.
They're positively afraid she may not live."

"What!" cried Levin. "Very ill? What is wrong with her? How
has she...?"

While they were saying this, Laska, with ears pricked up, was
looking upwards at the sky, and reproachfully at them.

"They have chosen a time to talk," she was thinking. "It's on
the wing.... Here it is, yes, it is. They'll miss it," thought
Laska.

But at that very instant both suddenly heard a shrill whistle
which, as it were, smote on their ears, and both suddenly seized
their guns and two flashes gleamed, and two gangs sounded at the
very same instant. The snipe flying high above instantly folded
its wings and fell into a thicket, bending down the delicate
shoots.

"Splendid! Together!" cried Levin, and he ran with Laska into the
thicket to look for the snipe.

"Oh, yes, what was it that was unpleasant?" he wondered. "Yes,
Kitty's ill.... Well, it can't be helped; I'm very sorry," he
thought.

"She's found it! Isn't she a clever thing?" he said, taking the
warm bird from Laska's mouth and packing it into the almost full
game bag. "I've got it, Stiva!" he shouted.



Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Category:
Fiction - Russian literature
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