"Bang! bang!" sounded almost in his ear. Vassenka had fired at a
flock of ducks which was hovering over the marsh and flying at
that moment towards the sportsmen, far out of range. Before
Levin had time to look round, there was the whir of one snipe,
another, a third, and some eight more rose one after another.
Stepan Arkadyevitch hit one at the very moment when it was
beginning its zigzag movements, and the snipe fell in a heap into
the mud. Oblonsky aimed deliberately at another, still flying
low in the reeds, and together with the report of the shot, that
snipe too fell, and it could be seen fluttering out where the
sedge had been cut, its unhurt wing showing white beneath.
Levin was not so lucky: he aimed at his first bird too low, and
missed; he aimed at it again, just as it was rising, but at that
instant another snipe flew up at his very feet, distracting him
so that he missed again.
While they were loading their guns, another snipe rose, and
Veslovsky, who had had time to load again, sent two charges of
small-shot into the water. Stepan Arkadyevitch picked up his
snipe, and with sparkling eyes looked at Levin.
"Well, now let us separate," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and
limping on his left foot, holding his gun in readiness and
whistling to his dog, he walked off in one direction. Levin and
Veslovsky walked in the other.
It always happened with Levin that when his first shots were a
failure he got hot and out of temper, and shot badly the whole
day. So it was that day. The snipe showed themselves in
numbers. They kept flying up from just under the dogs, from
under the sportsmen's legs, and Levin might have retrieved his
ill luck. But the more he shot, the more he felt disgraced in
the eyes of Veslovsky, who kept popping away merrily and
indiscriminately, killing nothing, and not in the slightest
abashed by his ill success. Levin, in feverish haste, could not
restrain himself, got more and more out of temper, and ended by
shooting almost without a hope of hitting. Laska, indeed, seemed
to understand this. She began looking more languidly, and gazed
back at the sportsmen, as it were, with perplexity or reproach in
her eyes. Shots followed shots in rapid succession. The smoke
of the powder hung about the sportsmen, while in the great roomy
net of the game bag there were only three light little snipe.
And of these one had been killed by Veslovsky alone, and one by
both of them together. Meanwhile from the other side of the
marsh came the sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch's shots, not
frequent, but, as Levin fancied, well-directed, for almost after
each they heard "Krak, Krak, _apporte_!"