1 There was nothing in the sky in the least like a shell.
2 A slight wind arose, and the sky looked gray and sullen.
3 He glanced at the sky in the interval for whetting the scythes.
4 Lying on his back, he gazed up now into the high, cloudless sky.
5 The moon had lost all of its luster, and was like a white cloud in the sky.
6 Levin followed her with a light, rapid step, continually looking at the sky.
7 While they were saying this, Laska, with ears pricked up, was looking upwards at the sky, and reproachfully at them.
8 The sky had grown blue and bright; and with the same softness, but with the same remoteness, it met his questioning gaze.
9 There was no trace of shell, and there was stretched over fully half the sky an even cover of tiny and ever tinier cloudlets.
10 But Levin felt a longing to get as much mowing done that day as possible, and was vexed with the sun sinking so quickly in the sky.
11 He glanced at the sky, expecting to find there the cloud shell he had been admiring and taking as the symbol of the ideas and feelings of that night.
12 Venus had risen above the branch, and the ear of the Great Bear with its shaft was now all plainly visible against the dark blue sky, yet still he waited.
13 Levin looked about him to right and to left, and there, just facing him against the dusky blue sky above the confused mass of tender shoots of the aspens, he saw the flying bird.
14 Larks trilled unseen above the velvety green fields and the ice-covered stubble-land; peewits wailed over the low lands and marshes flooded by the pools; cranes and wild geese flew high across the sky uttering their spring calls.
15 He stood, listened, and gazed sometimes down at the wet mossy ground, sometimes at Laska listening all alert, sometimes at the sea of bare tree tops that stretched on the slope below him, sometimes at the darkening sky, covered with white streaks of cloud.
16 Standing still, and looking at the tops of the aspen trees waving in the wind, with their freshly washed, brightly shining leaves in the cold sunshine, she knew that they would not forgive her, that everyone and everything would be merciless to her now as was that sky, that green.
17 Behind the fog there was the flowing of water, the cracking and floating of ice, the swift rush of turbid, foaming torrents; and on the following Monday, in the evening, the fog parted, the storm clouds split up into little curling crests of cloud, the sky cleared, and the real spring had come.
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