# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Two/Chapter 15

CHAPTER XV
The place where the birds collected was not far away, by a small stream, flowing through an aspen grove. Levin got out and took Oblonsky to a nook in a mossy, somewhat marshy meadow, where the snow had already melted. He himself went to the opposite side, near a double birch, rested his gun on the fork of a dead branch, took off his kaftan, clasped a belt about his waist, and insured the free motion of his arms.
Old gray Laska, following him step by step, sat down cautiously in front of him, and pricked up her ears. The sun was setting behind the great forest, and against the bright sky the young birches and aspens stood out distinctly, with their bending branches and their swelling buds.
In the forest, where the snow still lay, the low rippling sound of waters could be heard running in their narrow channels; little birds were chirping, and flying from tree to tree. In the intervals of perfect silence one could hear the rustling of the last year's leaves, moved by the thawing earth or the pushing herbs.
"Why, one really can hear and see the grass grow!" said Levin to himself, as he saw a moist and slate-col​ored aspen leaf raised by the blade of a young herb starting from the sod.
He stood, listening and looking, now at the damp moss-covered ground, now at the watchful Laska, now at the bare tree-tops of the forest, which swept like a sea to the foot of the hill, and now at the darkening sky, where floated little white bits of cloud. A hawk flew aloft, slowly flapping his broad wings above the distant forest; another took the same direction and disappeared. In the thicket the birds were chirping louder and more gayly than ever. Not far away, an owl lifted his voice, and Laska pricked up her ears again, took two or three cautious steps, and bent her head to listen. On the other side of the stream a cuckoo sang. Twice it uttered its customary cry, and then its voice grew hoarse, it flew away, and was heard no more.
"Why, the cuckoo has come!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming out from behind his thicket.
"Yes, I hear," said Levin, disgusted that the silence of the forest was broken, by the sound even of his own voice. "You won't have to wait long now."
Stepan Arkadyevitch returned to his place behind his thicket, and Levin saw only the flash of a match and the red glow of his cigarette and a light bluish smoke.
Tchik! tchik! Stepan Arkadyevitch cocked his gun.
"What was that making that noise?" he asked of his companion, attracting his attention to a protracted humming as if a colt was neighing with a very slender voice.
"Don't you know what that is? That is the buck rabbit. Don't speak any more. Listen, there is a bird!" cried Levin, cocking his gun.
A slender distant whistle was heard, with that rhythmic regularity which the huntsman knows so well; then a moment or two later it was repeated nearer, and suddenly changed into a hoarse little cry.
Levin turned his eyes to the right, to the left, and finally saw, just above his head, against the fading blue of the sky, above the gently waving aspens, a bird flying. It flew straight toward him; its cry, like the noise ​made by tearing stiff cloth, rang in his ears; then he distinguished the long bill and the long neck of the bird, but hardly had he caught sight of it when a red flash shone out from behind Oblonsky's bush. The bird darted off like an arrow and rose into the air again; but again the light flashed and a report was heard, and the bird, vainly striving to rise, flapped its wings for a second, and fell heavily to the wet earth.
"Did I miss?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, who could see nothing through the smoke.
"Here she is," cried Levin, pointing to Laska, who, with one ear erect, and waving the tip end of her hairy tail, slowly, as if to lengthen out the pleasure, came back with the bird in her mouth, seeming almost to smile as she laid the game down at her master's feet.
"Well now, I am glad you succeeded," said Levin, though he felt a slight sensation of envy, because he himself had not killed this snipe.
"The right barrel missed, curse it!" replied Stepan Arkadyevitch, reloading his gun. "Sh! .... Here's another .... "
In fact, the whistles came thicker and thicker, rapid and sharp. Two snipe flew over the hunters, playing, chasing each other, and only whistling, not clucking. Four shots rang out; and the snipe, making a sudden turn like swallows, disappeared from sight.
The sport was excellent. Stepan Arkadyevitch killed two others, and Levin also two, one of which was lost. It grew darker and darker. Venus, with silvery light, shone out low in the west from behind the birches; and high in the east, Arcturus gleamed, with his somber, reddish fire. Above his head, Levin found and lost the stars of the Great Bear. The snipe had now ceased to fly, but Levin resolved to wait until Venus, which was visible above the birch trees, should stand clear above the lower branches, and till all the stars of the Great Bear should be entirely visible. The star had passed beyond the birch trees, and the wain of the Bear with ​its pole was shining out clear in the dark blue sky, and he was still waiting.
"Is n't it getting late?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch.
All was calm in the forest; not a bird moved.
"Let us wait a little longer," replied Levin.
"Just as you please."
At this moment they were not fifteen paces apart.
"Stiva," cried Levin, suddenly, "you have not told me whether your sister-in-law is married yet, or whether she is to be married soon."
He felt so calm, his mind was so thoroughly made up, that nothing, he thought, could move him. But what Stepan Arkadyevitch answered was wholly unexpected.
"She is not married, and she is not thinking of marriage. She is very ill, and the doctors have sent her abroad. They even fear for her life."
"What did you say?" cried Levin. "Very ill? What is the matter? How did she .... "
While they were talking thus, Laska, with ears erect, was gazing at the sky above her head, and looking at them reproachfully.
"This is not the time to talk," thought Laska. "Ah! Here comes one—there he goes; they will miss him."
At the same instant a sharp whistle pierced the ears of the two huntsmen, and both, leveling their guns, shot at once; the two reports, the two flashes, were simultaneous. The snipe, flying high, folded his wings, drew up his delicate legs, and fell into the thicket.
"Excellent! both together!" cried Levin, running with Laska in search of the game. "Oh, yes! What was it that hurt me so just now? Ah, yes! Kitty is ill," he remembered. "What is to be done about it? It is too bad.—Ah! she has found it! Good dog," said he, taking the bird, still warm, from Laska's mouth, and putting it into his overflowing game-bag.
"Come on, Stiva!" he cried.