Waking up at earliest dawn, Levin tried to wake his companions.
Vassenka, lying on his stomach, with one leg in a stocking thrust
out, was sleeping so soundly that he could elicit no response.
Oblonsky, half asleep, declined to get up so early. Even Laska,
who was asleep, curled up in the hay, got up unwillingly, and
lazily stretched out and straightened her hind legs one after the
other. Getting on his boots and stockings, taking his gun, and
carefully opening the creaking door of the barn, Levin went out
into the road. The coachmen were sleeping in their carriages,
the horses were dozing. Only one was lazily eating oats, dipping
its nose into the manger. It was still gray out-of-doors.
"Why are you up so early, my dear?" the old woman, their hostess,
said, coming out of the hut and addressing him affectionately as
an old friend.
"Going shooting, granny. Do I go this way to the marsh?"
"Straight out at the back; by our threshing floor, my dear, and
hemp patches; there's a little footpath." Stepping carefully
with her sunburnt, bare feet, the old woman conducted Levin, and
moved back the fence for him by the threshing floor.
"Straight on and you'll come to the marsh. Our lads drove the
cattle there yesterday evening."
Laska ran eagerly forward along the little path. Levin followed
her with a light, rapid step, continually looking at the sky. He
hoped the sun would not be up before he reached the marsh. But
the sun did not delay. The moon, which had been bright when he
went out, by now shone only like a crescent of quicksilver. The
pink flush of dawn, which one could not help seeing before, now
had to be sought to be discerned at all. What were before
undefined, vague blurs in the distant countryside could now be
distinctly seen. They were sheaves of rye. The dew, not visible
till the sun was up, wetted Levin's legs and his blouse above his
belt in the high growing, fragrant hemp patch, from which the
pollen had already fallen out. In the transparent stillness of
morning the smallest sounds were audible. A bee flew by Levin's
ear with the whizzing sound of a bullet. He looked carefully,
and saw a second and a third. They were all flying from the
beehives behind the hedge, and they disappeared over the hemp
patch in the direction of the marsh. The path led straight to
the marsh. The marsh could be recognized by the mist which rose
from it, thicker in one place and thinner in another, so that the
reeds and willow bushes swayed like islands in this mist. At the
edge of the marsh and the road, peasant boys and men, who had
been herding for the night, were lying, and in the dawn all were
asleep under their coats. Not far from them were three hobbled
horses. One of them clanked a chain. Laska walked beside her
master, pressing a little forward and looking round. Passing the
sleeping peasants and reaching the first reeds, Levin examined
his pistols and let his dog off. One of the horses, a sleek,
dark-brown three-year-old, seeing the dog, started away, switched
its tail and snorted. The other horses too were frightened, and
splashing through the water with their hobbled legs, and drawing
their hoofs out of the thick mud with a squelching sound, they
bounded out of the marsh. Laska stopped, looking ironically at
the horses and inquiringly at Levin. Levin patted Laska, and
whistled as a sign that she might begin.