War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [325]
“The other day, when he came out of church in full regalia, Mikhail Sidorych…” Semyon did not finish, hearing in the still air the clear music of no more than two or three hounds baying in pursuit. Inclining his head, he listened and frowned silently to his master. “They’ve struck on the litter…” he whispered, “they’re heading straight for the Lyadovsky knoll.”
The count, forgetting to wipe the smile from his face, looked straight into the distance along the line of trees, and held the snuffbox in his hand without taking a pinch. Following the dogs’ barking came the bass sound of Danilo’s horn, calling after the wolf; the pack joined the first three dogs, and one could hear the baying of the hounds in full cry, with that special yelping that signals the pursuit of a wolf. The kennelmen no longer shouted, but hallooed, and Danilo’s voice rose above all the others, now bass, now piercingly shrill. Danilo’s voice seemed to fill the whole woods, emerge, and spread far across the field.
Listening silently for a few seconds, the count and his groom realized that the hounds had broken up into two packs: one, a big one, baying with particular fervor, began to move away; the other part of the pack raced through the woods, past the count, and in this pack Danilo’s hallooing could be heard. These two chases merged, alternated, but both were moving away. Semyon sighed and bent down to straighten the leash in which a young dog had become entangled. The count also sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in his hand, opened it and took a pinch.
“Back!” Semyon shouted at a dog that had stepped out of the bushes. The count gave a start and dropped the snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted and went to pick it up.
The count and Semyon looked at him. Suddenly, as often happens, the sound of the chase instantly drew close, as if the dogs’ baying muzzles and Danilo’s hallooing were just in front of them.
The count turned and to his right saw Mitka, who was looking at the count with popping eyes and, raising his cap,4 was pointing ahead of him to the other side.
“Look out!” he cried in a voice which made it clear that this word had been asking long and painfully to be let out. And, releasing his dogs, he galloped towards the count.
The count and Semyon leaped out of the bushes and to their left saw a wolf, which, swaying softly, was moving at a gentle lope to the left of them, towards the same bushes by which they were standing. The angry dogs squealed and, loosed from their leashes, raced towards the wolf past the horses’ legs.
The wolf slowed his flight, turned his big-browed head towards the dogs awkwardly, as if suffering from angina, and, swaying just as softly, leaped once, twice, and, with a wag of his tail, disappeared into the bushes. At that same moment, from the bushes opposite, with a baying that sounded like a lament, perplexedly leaped one hound, a second, a third, and the whole pack raced across the field to the same place where the wolf had gone through. After the hounds, the hazel bushes parted, and Danilo’s brown horse appeared, dark with sweat. On its long back, in a little lump, thrown forward, sat Danilo, hatless, his gray hair tousled above his red, sweaty face.
“Hallooloo, halloo!…” he cried. When he saw the count, his eyes flashed lightning.
“A——!” he cried, raising his whip threateningly at the count. “You b——ed the wolf!…Some hunters!”
And as if not deeming the abashed, frightened count worthy of further conversation, he whipped the hollow, wet flanks of his brown gelding with all the anger he had prepared for the count, and raced after the hounds. The count stood as if punished, looking around and trying with a smile to evoke some sympathy for his position in Semyon. But Semyon was no longer there: he was circling around the bushes to cut the wolf off from the timber. On both sides the borzoi men also came leaping after the beast. But the wolf got through the bushes, and not one hunter intercepted him.
V
Nikolai Rostov meanwhile stood in his