This excited Levin still more. The snipe were floating
continually in the air over the reeds. Their whirring wings
close to the earth, and their harsh cries high in the air, could
be heard on all sides; the snipe that had risen first and flown
up into the air, settled again before the sportsmen. Instead of
two hawks there were now dozens of them hovering with shrill
cries over the marsh.
After walking through the larger half of the marsh, Levin and
Veslovsky reached the place where the peasants' mowing-grass was
divided into long strips reaching to the reeds, marked off in one
place by the trampled grass, in another by a path mown through
it. Half of these strips had already been mown.
Though there was not so much hope of finding birds in the uncut
part as the cut part, Levin had promised Stepan Arkadyevitch to
meet him, and so he walked on with his companion through the cut
and uncut patches.
"Hi, sportsmen!" shouted one of a group of peasants, sitting on
an unharnessed cart; "come and have some lunch with us! Have a
drop of wine!"
Levin looked round.
"Come along, it's all right!" shouted a good-humored-looking
bearded peasant with a red face, showing his white teeth in a
grin, and holding up a greenish bottle that flashed in the
sunlight.
"_Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent_?" asked Veslovsky.
"They invite you to have some vodka. Most likely they've been
dividing the meadow into lots. I should have some," said Levin,
not without some guile, hoping Veslovsky would be tempted by the
vodka, and would go away to them.
"Why do they offer it?"
"Oh, they're merry-making. Really, you should join them. You
would be interested."
"_Allons, c'est curieux_."
"You go, you go, you'll find the way to the mill!" cried Levin,
and looking round he perceived with satisfaction that Veslovsky,
bent and stumbling with weariness, holding his gun out at arm's
length, was making his way out of the marsh towards the
peasants.
"You come too!" the peasants shouted to Levin. "Never fear! You
taste our cake!"
Levin felt a strong inclination to drink a little vodka and to
eat some bread. He was exhausted, and felt it a great effort to
drag his staggering legs out of the mire, and for a minute he
hesitated. But Laska was setting. And immediately all his
weariness vanished, and he walked lightly through the swamp
towards the dog. A snipe flew up at his feet; he fired and
killed it. Laska still pointed.--"Fetch it!" Another bird flew
up close to the dog. Levin fired. But it was an unlucky day for
him; he missed it, and when he went to look for the one he had
shot, he could not find that either. He wandered all about the
reeds, but Laska did not believe he had shot it, and when he sent
her to find it, she pretended to hunt for it, but did not really.
And in the absence of Vassenka, on whom Levin threw the blame of
his failure, things went no better. There were plenty of snipe
still, but Levin made one miss after another.