trouble at home. But there is no need of a man's tying his hands."
"Perhaps not," said Levin, dryly, and he turned over on his side. "To-morrow I must start early and I shan't wake any one, and I shall start at daybreak."
"Messieurs, venez vite," called Vasenka, returning. "Charmante! I have discovered her! Charmante! A perfect Gretchen, and she and I have already scraped acquaintance. Truly she is mighty pretty," he cried, with such an expression of satisfaction that any one would think that she had been made for his especial benefit, and that he was satisfied with the work of the one who had prepared her for him.
Levin pretended to be asleep, but Oblonsky, putting on his slippers and lighting a cigar, left the barn and soon their voices died away.
It was long before Levin could go to sleep. He heard his horses munching their hay, then the muzhik setting out with his eldest son to watch the animals in the pasture, then the soldier going to bed on the other side of the loft with his nephew, the youngest son of their host; he heard the little boy in a low voice telling his uncle his impressions regarding the dogs, which to him seemed terrible and monstrous beasts; then the boy asking what these dogs caught, and the soldier in a hoarse and sleepy voice telHng him that the next day the huntsmen would go to the swamp and would fire off their guns; and then, the boy still continuing to ply him with questions, the soldier hushed him up, saying, "Go to sleep, Vaska, go to sleep, and you will see," and soon the man began to snore and all became quiet. All that was heard was the neighing of the horses and the cries of the woodcock.
"Why is this simply revolting?" he asked himself. "Well, what's to be done? It is not my fault." And he began to think of the morrow.
"To-morrow I will start early in the morning, and I will take it on myself not to get excited. I will bring down some woodcock. And there are plenty of snipe! And when I get back, there'll be a letter from Kitty.
