"Bon appétit, bonne conscience. Ce poulet va tomber jusqu'au fond de mes bottes," exclaimed Vasenka, growing lively again, and employing a quaint French proverb, as he devoured his second chicken. "Now our misfortunes are ended; now everything will go on famously. Only as a punishment for my sin I must certainly sit on the driver's box. Isn't that so? hey?—No, no, I am a born Automedon. Just see how I will tool you along," he insisted, not letting go the reins when Levin asked him to give up to the coachman. "No, I must atone for my sin, and I like it immensely on the box." And he drove.
Levin was somewhat afraid that he would tire out the horses, especially the chestnut on the left, which he could not control; but reluctantly he gave in to his gayety, listened to the love-songs which Veslovsky, sitting on the box, sang all the way, or to his stories and personation of an Englishman driving a four-in-hand, and after they had enjoyed their luncheon they reached the marshes of Gvozdevo in the gayest possible spirits.
CHAPTER X
Vasenka drove the horses so furiously that they reached the marshes too early and it was still hot. On reaching the important marsh, the real goal of their journey, Levin could not help wondering how he might rid himself of Vasenka and so get along without impediment. Stepan Arkadyevitch had evidently the same desire, and Levin could read in his face that expression of anxiety which a genuine huntsman always betrays before he goes out on the chase—he also detected a certain good-natured slyness characteristic of him.
"How shall we go in? I can see the marsh is excellent, and there are the hawks," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pointing to two big birds circling over the tall grass. "Where hawks are there is sure to be game!"
"Well, do you see, gentlemen?" said Levin, with a rather gloomy expression, pulling up his boots and con
