Page 1268 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

left boot full of water weighed heavily on his leg and
squeaked at every step; the sweat rain in drops down his
powder-grimed face, his mouth was full of the bitter taste,
his nose of the smell of powder and stagnant water, his

ears were ringing with the incessant whir of the snipe; he
could not touch the stock of his gun, it was so hot; his
heart beat with short, rapid throbs; his hands shook with
excitement, and his weary legs stumbled and staggered
over the hillocks and in the swamp, but still he walked on
and still he shot. At last, after a disgraceful miss, he flung
his gun and his hat on the ground.
‘No, I must control myself,’ he said to himself. Picking
up his gun and his hat, he called Laska, and went out of
the swamp. When he got on to dry ground he sat down,
pulled off his boot and emptied it, then walked to the
marsh, drank some stagnant-tasting water, moistened his
burning hot gun, and washed his face and hands. Feeling
refreshed, he went back to the spot where a snipe had
settled, firmly resolved to keep cool.
He tried to be calm, but it was the same again. His
finger pressed the cock before he had taken a good aim at
the bird. It got worse and worse.

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