"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,

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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.




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