The sportsman's saying, that if the first beast or the first bird
is not missed, the day will be lucky, turned out correct.

At ten o'clock Levin, weary, hungry, and happy after a tramp of
twenty miles, returned to his night's lodging with nineteen head
of fine game and one duck, which he tied to his belt, as it would
not go into the game bag. His companions had long been awake,
and had had time to get hungry and have breakfast.

"Wait a bit, wait a bit, I know there are nineteen," said Levin,
counting a second time over the grouse and snipe, that looked so
much less important now, bent and dry and bloodstained, with
heads crooked aside, than they did when they were flying.

The number was verified, and Stepan Arkadyevitch's envy pleased
Levin. He was pleased too on returning to find the man sent by
Kitty with a note was already there.

"I am perfectly well and happy. If you were uneasy about me, you
can feel easier than ever. I've a new bodyguard, Marya
Vlasyevna,"--this was the midwife, a new and important personage
in Levin's domestic life. "She has come to have a look at me.
She found me perfectly well, and we have kept her till you are
back. All are happy and well, and please, don't be in a hurry to
come back, but, if the sport is good, stay another day."