muzhik with a red face, displaying his white teeth and holding up a green bottle which glittered in the sun.
"Q'est-ce qu'ils disent?" asked Veslovsky.
"They invite us to drink some vodka with them. They have probably just finished their meadows. I'd go if I were you," said Levin, not without craftiness, for he hoped that Veslovsky would be tempted by the vodka and would go for it.
"Why should they treat us?"
"Oh, they are probably having a jollification. Really, you had better go. It will interest you."
"Allons, c'est curieux."
"Go ahead, go, you will find the road to the mill," cried Levin; and, looking round, he saw to his delight that Veslovsky, stooping over and dragging one leg after the other, and carrying his musket on his outstretched arm, was making his way from the swamp toward the peasants.
"You come too," cried the muzhik to Levin. "Don't be afeared,[1] we'll give you a tart."
Levin felt a strong inclination to drink a glass of vodka and to eat a piece of bread. He was tired and could hardly lift his feet out of the bog, and for a moment he hesitated. But the dog was pointing, and immediately all his weariness vanished, and he lightly made his way over the marsh toward the dog. The woodcock flew from under his feet; he fired and brought it down. The dog pointed again — pil! From in front of the dog another arose. Levin blazed away. But the day was unfortunate; he missed, and when he looked for the one he had killed, it was nowhere to be found. He searched all through the tall grass, but Laska had no faith that her master had killed it, and when he sent her to find it, she pretended to circle round but did not really search.
Even without Vasenka, on whom Levin had laid the blame for his bad luck, there was no improvement. There also woodcock abounded, but Levin missed shot after shot.
- ↑ He says niabos' for nebos', nichavo for nichevo.
