These two pleasures, his lucky shooting and the letter from his
wife, were so great that two slightly disagreeable incidents
passed lightly over Levin. One was that the chestnut trace
horse, who had been unmistakably overworked on the previous day,
was off his feed and out of sorts. The coachman said he was
"Overdriven yesterday, Konstantin Dmitrievitch. Yes, indeed!
driven ten miles with no sense!"

The other unpleasant incident, which for the first minute
destroyed his good humor, though later he laughed at it a great
deal, was to find that of all the provisions Kitty had provided
in such abundance that one would have thought there was enough
for a week, nothing was left. On his way back, tired and hungry
from shooting, Levin had so distinct a vision of meat-pies that
as he approached the hut he seemed to smell and taste them, as
Laska had smelt the game, and he immediately told Philip to give
him some. It appeared that there were no pies left, nor even any
chicken.

"Well, this fellow's appetite!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch,
laughing and pointing at Vassenka Veslovsky. "I never suffer
from loss of appetite, but he's really marvelous!..."

"Well, it can't be helped," said Levin, looking gloomily at
Veslovsky. "Well, Philip, give me some beef, then."

"The beef's been eaten, and the bones given to the dogs,"
answered Philip.