 24 Two hours later he knocked at Bazarov's door. I must apologize for hindering you in your scientific researches, he began, seating himself in a chair by the window, and leaning with both hands on a handsome walking stick with an ivory knob. He usually walked without a stick. But I am obliged to ask you to spare me five minutes of your time. No more. All my time is at your disposal," answered Bazarov, whose face quickly changed its expression the moment Pavel Petrovich crossed the threshold. Five minutes will be enough for me. I have come to put one question to you. A question? What about? I will tell you, if you will be good enough to listen to me. At the beginning of your stay in my brother's house, before I had renounced the pleasure of conversing with you, I had occasion to hear your opinion on many subjects. But as far as I can remember, neither between us, nor in my presence, was the subject of single combats or dueling discussed. Allow me to hear what are your views on that subject. Bazarov, who had stood up to meet Pavel Petrovich, sat down on the edge of the table and folded his arms. My view is, he said, that from the theoretical point of view dueling is absurd. But from the practical point of view, well, that's quite another matter. So you mean to say, if I understand you rightly, that whatever theoretical views you may hold about dueling, you would, in practice, not allow yourself to be insulted without demanding satisfaction? You have guessed my meaning completely. Very good. I am very glad to hear that from you. Your words release me from a state of uncertainty. Of indecision, do you mean? That is all the same. I express myself in order to be understood. I am not a seminary rat. Your words have saved me from a rather grievous necessity. I have made up my mind to fight you. Bazarov opened his eyes wide. Me? Undoubtedly you. And what for, may I ask? I could explain the reason to you, began Pavel Petrovich, but I prefer to keep silent about it. To my mind, your presence here is superfluous. I find you intolerable. I despise you. And if that is not enough for you— Pavel Petrovich's eyes flashed. Bazarov's, too, were glittering. Very good, he said. Further explanations are unnecessary. You've taken it into your head to try out on me your chivalrous spirit. I could refuse you this pleasure, but it can't be helped. I am sensible of my obligations to you, answered Pavel Petrovich. And I may count, then, on your accepting my challenge, without compelling me to resort to violent measures. That means, speaking without metaphor, to the stick, Bazarov remarked coolly. That is entirely correct. You have no need to insult me. Indeed, it would not be quite safe. You can remain a gentleman. I accept your challenge also, like a gentleman. Excellent, observed Pavel Petrovich, and put his stick down in the corner. We will say a few words now about the conditions of our duel. But I should first like to know whether you consider it necessary to resort to the formality of a trifling dispute which might serve as a pretext for my challenge. No, it's better without formalities. I also think so. I suggest it is also inappropriate to dwell further on the real reason for our skirmish. We cannot endure one another. What more is necessary? What more is necessary? repeated Bazarov, ironically. As regards the conditions of the duel itself, since we shall have no seconds, for where could we get them? Exactly. Where could we get any? I therefore have the honour to put the following proposals to you. We shall fight early to-morrow morning, at six, let us say, behind the plantation, with pistols, at a distance of ten paces. At ten paces? That will do. We can still hate each other at that distance. We could make it eight, remarked Pavel Petrovich. We could. Why not? We fire twice, and to be prepared for everything, let each put a letter in his pocket, accepting responsibility for his own end. I don't quite agree with that, said Bazarov. It smacks too much of a French novel, a bit unreal. Perhaps you will agree, however, that it would be unpleasant to incur the suspicion of murder. I agree, but there is a means of avoiding that painful accusation. We shall have no seconds, but we could have a witness. And who, may I ask? Why, Piotr, which Piotr? Your brother's valet. He's a man standing at the height of contemporary culture, who would play his part in such an affair with all the necessary. I think you are joking, sir. Not in the least. If you think over my suggestion, you will be convinced that it is full of common sense and simplicity. Murder will out, but I can undertake to prepare Piotr in a suitable manner and bring him to the field of battle. You persist in joking, said Pavel Petrovich, getting up from his chair. But after the courteous readiness you have shown, I have no right to claim. So everything is arranged. By the way, I suppose you have no pistols. How should I have pistols, Pavel Petrovich? I'm not an army man. In that case, I offer you mine. You may rest assured that I have not shot with them for five years. That's a very consoling piece of news. Pavel Petrovich picked up his stick. And now, my dear sir, it only remains for me to thank you and to leave you to your studies. I have the honour to take leave of you. Until we have the pleasure of meeting again, my dear sir, said Bazarov, conducting his visitor to the door. Pavel Petrovich went out. Bazarov remained standing for a moment in front of the door, then suddenly exclaimed, What the devil? How fine and how stupid! A pretty farce we've been acting, like trained dogs dancing on their hind legs. But it was out of the question to refuse. I really believe he would have struck me, and then, Bazarov turned pale at the very thought, all his pride stood up on end. I might have had to strangle him like a kitten. He went back to his microscope, but his heart was beating fast and the composure so essential for accurate observation had disappeared. He saw us today, he thought, but can it be that he would do all this on account of his brother? And how serious a matter is it, a kiss? There must be something else in it. Bah! Isn't he in love with her himself? Obviously he's in love. It's as clear as daylight. What a mess! Just think! It's a bad business, he decided at last. It's bad from whatever angle one looks at it. In the first place, to risk a bullet through one's brain, and then in any case to go away from here. And what about Arkady? And that good-natured creature Nikolai Petrovich? It's a bad business. The day passed in a peculiar calm and dullness. Fenichka gave no sign of life at all. She sat in her little room like a mouse in its hole. Nikolai Petrovich had a care-worn look. He had just heard that his wheat-crop in which he had set high hopes had begun to show signs of blight. Pavel Petrovich overwhelmed everyone, even Prokovich, with his icy politeness. Bazarov began a letter to his father, but tore it up and threw it under the table. If I die, he thought, they will hear about it. But I shan't die. No, I shall struggle along in this world for a long time yet. He gave Piotr an order to come to him on important business the next morning as soon as it was light. Piotr imagined that Bazarov wanted to take him to Petersburg. Bazarov went to bed late, and all night long he was oppressed by discorded dreams. Madame Artemstov kept on appearing in them. Now she was his mother and she was followed by a kitten with black whiskers. And this kitten was really Fenichka. Then Pavel Petrovich took the shape of a great forest with which he had still to fight. Piotr awoke him at four o'clock. He dressed at once and went out with him. It was a lovely fresh morning. Tiny flecked clouds stood overhead like fleecy lambs in the clear blue sky. Fine dewdrops lay on the leaves and grass, sparkling like silver on the spider's webs. The damp dark earth seemed still to preserve the rosy traces of the dawn. The songs of larks poured down from all over the sky. Bazarov walked as far as the plantation, sat down in the shade at its edge, and only then disclosed to Piotr the nature of the service he expected from him. The cultured valet was mortally alarmed. But Bazarov quieted him down by the assurance that he would have nothing to do except to stand at a distance and look on so that he would not incur any sort of responsibility. And besides, he added, only think what an important part you have to play. Piotr threw up his hands, cast down his eyes, and leaned against a birch tree looking green with terror. The road from Marino skirted the plantation. A light dust lay on it, untouched by wheel or fort since the previous day. Bazarov found himself staring along this road, picking and chewing a piece of grass, and he kept on repeating to himself, What a piece of idiocy! The morning chill made him shiver twice. Piotr looked at him dismally, but Bazarov only smiled. He was not frightened. The tramp of horse's hoofs could be heard coming along the road. A peasant came into sight from behind the trees. He was driving before him two horses hobbled together, and as he passed Bazarov he looked at him rather strangely, without removing his cap, which evidently disturbed Piotr as an unlucky omen. There's someone else up early too, thought Bazarov, but he at least has got up for work while we... It seems the gentleman is coming, whispered Piotr suddenly. Bazarov raised his head and caught sight of Pavel Petrovich. Dressed in a light-checked coat and snow-white trousers, he was walking quickly along the road. Under his arm he carried a box wrapped in green cloth. Excuse me, I think I have kept you waiting, he said, bowing first to Bazarov and then to Piotr, whom he treated respectfully at that moment as representing some kind of second. I did not want to wake up my man. It doesn't matter, said Bazarov, we've only just arrived ourselves. Ah, so much the better! Pavel Petrovich looked around. There's no one in sight, no one to interfere with us. We can proceed. Let us proceed. You don't demand any more explanations, I suppose? No, I don't. Would you like to load, inquired Pavel Petrovich, taking the pistols out of the box? No, you load, and I will measure out the paces. My legs are longer, added Bazarov with a smile. One, two, three. Evgeny Vasilich, stammered Piotr with difficulty. He was trembling as if he had fever. Say what you like, but I am going farther off. Four, five. All right, move away, my good fellow. You can even stand behind a tree and stop up your ears. Only don't shut your eyes, and if anyone falls, run and pick him up. Six, seven, eight. Bazarov stopped. Is that enough, he asked, turning to Pavel Petrovich, or shall I add two paces more? As you like, replied the latter, pressing the second bullet into the barrel. Well, we'll make two paces more," Bazarov drew a line on the ground with the toe of his boot. There's the barrier. By the way, how many paces may each of us go back from the barrier? That's an important question, too. It was not discussed yesterday. I suppose ten, replied Pavel Petrovich, handing Bazarov both pistols. Will you be so good as to choose? I will be so good. But you must admit, Pavel Petrovich, that our duel is unusual to the point of absurdity. Only look at the face of our second. You are disposed to laugh at everything," answered Pavel Petrovich. I don't deny the strangeness of our duel, but I think it is my duty to warn you that I intend to fight seriously. A bon entendur, salut! Oh, I don't doubt that we've made up our minds to do away with each other. But why not laugh and unite, util dulci? So you can talk to me in French and I'll reply in Latin. I intend to fight seriously," repeated Pavel Petrovich, and he walked off to his place. Bazarov, on his side, counted off ten paces from the barrier and stood still. Are you ready? asked Pavel Petrovich. Perfectly. We can approach each other. Bazarov moved slowly forward and Pavel Petrovich walked towards him, his left hand thrust in his pocket, gradually raising the muzzle of his pistol. He's aiming straight at my nose, thought Bazarov, and how carefully he screws up his eyes, the scoundrel. Not an agreeable sensation. I'd better look at his watch chain. Something whizzed by sharply close to Bazarov's ear, and a shot rang out at that moment. I heard it, so it must be all right, managed to flash through Bazarov's brain. He took one more step, and without taking aim, pressed the trigger. Pavel Petrovich swayed slightly and clutched at his thigh. A thin stream of blood began to trickle down his white trousers. Bazarov threw his pistol aside and went up to his antagonist. Are you wounded? he asked. You had the right to call me up to the barrier, said Pavel Petrovich. This is a trifle. According to our agreement each of us has the right to one more shot. Well, but excuse me, we'll leave that to another time," answered Bazarov, and caught hold of Pavel Petrovich, who is beginning to turn pale. Now I'm no longer a duelist but a doctor, and first of all I must have a look at your wound. Piotr, come here, Piotr, where have you hidden yourself? What nonsense! I need help from nobody," said Pavel Petrovich, jerkily. And we must—again— He tried to pull at his mustache, but his hand failed him, his eyes grew dim, and he fainted. Here's a pretty pass, a fainting fit. What next? Bazarov exclaimed involuntarily as he laid Pavel Petrovich on the grass. Let's see what is wrong. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped away the blood, and began to feel around the wound. The bones not touched, he muttered through his teeth. The bullet didn't go deep. Only one muscle, Vastus externus, grazed. He'll be dancing about in three weeks. Fainting! Oh, these nervous people! Fancy what a delicate skin! Is he killed? whispered the trembling voice of Piotr behind his back. Bazarov looked around. Go for some water quickly, my good fellow, and he'll outlive you and me yet. But the perfect servant failed, apparently, to understand his word, and did not move from the spot. Pavel Petrovich slowly opened his eyes. He's dying, murmured Piotr and started crossing himself. You are right! What an idiotic face! remarked the wounded gentleman with a forced smile. Go and fetch the water, damn you! shouted Bazarov. There's no need. It was a momentary vertigo. Help me to sit up. There, that's right. I only need something to bind up this scratch, and I can reach home on foot, or else you can send for a drosky for me. The duel, if you agree, need not be renewed. You have behaved honorably. Today, today, take note. There's no need to recall the past, answered Bazarov, and as regards the future, it's not worth breaking your head about that, either. For I intend to move off from here immediately. Let me bind up your leg now. Your wound is not dangerous, but it's always better to stop the bleeding. But first I must bring this corpse to his senses. Bazarov shook Piotr by the collar and sent him off to fetch a drosky. Mind you, don't frighten my brother, Pavel Petrovich said to him. Don't inform him on any account. Piotr dashed off, and while he was running for a drosky, the two antagonists sat on the ground in silence. Pavel Petrovich tried not to look at Bazarov. He did not want to be reconciled to him in any case. He felt ashamed of his own arrogance, of his failure. He was ashamed of the whole affair he had arranged, even though he realized it could not have ended more auspiciously. At least he won't go on hanging around here, he consoled himself by thinking. One should be thankful even for that. The prolonged silence was oppressive and awkward. Both of them felt ill at ease. Each was conscious that the other understood him. For friends such a feeling is agreeable, but for those who are not friends it is most unpleasant, especially when it is impossible either to come to an understanding or to separate. Haven't I bound up your leg too tight? asked Bazarov at last. No, not at all. It's excellent," answered Pavel Petrovich, and added after a pause. We can't deceive my brother. He will have to be told that we quarreled about politics. Very good, said Bazarov. You can say that I cursed all Anglomaniacs. All right. What do you suppose that man thinks about us now? continued Pavel Petrovich, pointing at the same peasant who had driven the hobbled horses past Bazarov a few minutes before the duel, and who was now going back again along the same road, and took off his cap at the sight of the masters. Who knows him? answered Bazarov. Most likely of all he thinks about nothing. The Russian peasant is that mysterious unknown person about whom Mrs. Radcliffe used to say so much. Who can understand him? He doesn't understand himself. Ah, so that's what you think," Pavel Petrovich began, then suddenly exclaimed. Look what your fool of a piata has done! Here's my brother galloping towards us. Bazarov turned round and saw Nikolai Petrovich sitting in a drosky, his face pale. He jumped out before it had stopped and ran up to his brother. What does this mean? he called out in an agitated voice. Evgeny Vasilich, what is this? Nothing, answered Pavel Petrovich. They have alarmed you quite unnecessarily. We had a little dispute, Mr. Bazarov and I, and I have had to pay for it a little. But for heaven's sake, what was it all about? How shall I explain? Mr. Bazarov alluded disrespectfully to Sir Robert Peale. I hasten to add that I am the only person to blame in all this, and Mr. Bazarov has behaved honorably. I challenged him. But you're covered with blood. Well, did you suppose I had water in my veins? But this bloodletting positively does me good. Isn't that so, doctor? Help me to get into the drosky and don't give way to gloomy thoughts. I shall be quite well to-morrow. That's it. Excellent. Drive off, coachman. Nikolai Petrovich followed the drosky on foot. Bazarov lagged behind. I must ask you to look after my brother, Nikolai Petrovich said to him, until we get another doctor from the town. Bazarov nodded his head without speaking. An hour later Pevel Petrovich was already lying in bed with a skillfully bandaged leg. The whole house was upset. Fenichka felt ill. Nikolai Petrovich was silently wringing his hand, while Pevel Petrovich laughed and joked, especially with Bazarov. He had put on a fine Cambric night-shirt, an elegant morning jacket, and a fez. He did not allow the blinds to be drawn down, and humorously complained about the necessity of not being allowed to eat. Towards night, however, he grew feverish. His head ached. The doctor arrived from the town. Nikolai Petrovich would not listen to his brother, nor did Bazarov want him to. He sat the whole day in his room, looking yellow and angry, and only went into the invalid for as brief a visit as possible. Twice he happened to meet Fenichka, but she shrank away from him in horror. The new doctor advised a cooling diet. He confirmed, however, Bazarov's assurance that there was no danger. Nikolai Petrovich told him that his brother had hurt himself accidentally, to which the doctor replied, But on having twenty-five silver rubles slipped into his hand on the spot, he remarked, You don't say so. Well, such things often happen, of course. No one in the house went to bed or undressed. Nikolai Petrovich, from time to time, went in on tiptoe to his brother's room and tiptoed out again. Pavel Petrovich dozed, sighed a little, told his brother in French, Couché vous, and asked for something to drink. Nikolai Petrovich sent Fenichka into him once with a glass of lemonade. Pavel Petrovich looked at her intently and drank off the glass to the last drop. Towards morning the fever had increased a little, a slight delirium started. At first Pavel Petrovich uttered incoherent words. Then suddenly he opened his eyes, and seeing his brother beside his bed, anxiously leaning over him, he murmured, Don't you think, Nikolai, Fenichka has something in common with Nelly? What Nelly, Pavel dear? How can you ask that? With Princess R, especially in the upper part of the face. Say de la Memphamilie. Nikolai Petrovich made no answer, but inwardly he marveled at the persistent vitality of old passions in a man. This is what happens when it comes to the surface, he thought. Ah, how I love that empty creature, groaned Pavel Petrovich, mournfully clasping his hands behind his head. I can't bear that any insolent upstart should dare to touch, he muttered a few minutes later. Nikolai Petrovich only sighed. He never even suspected to whom these words referred. Bazarov came to see him on the following day at eight o'clock. He had already managed to pack and had set free all his frogs, insects and birds. You have come to say good-bye to me? said Nikolai Petrovich, getting up to meet him. Exactly. I understand and fully approve of you. My poor brother is, of course, to blame, but he has been punished for it. He told me that he made it impossible for you to act otherwise. I believe that you could not avoid this duel, which, to some extent, is explained by the almost constant antagonism of your different points of view. Nikolai Petrovich began to get rather mixed up in his words. My brother is a man of the old school, hot-tempered and obstinate. Thank God that it has only ended in this way. I have taken all possible precautions to avoid publicity. I'll leave you my address in case there's any fuss, said Bazarov, casually. I hope there will be no fuss, Evgenia Vasilich. I am very sorry that your stay in my house should have come to such an end. It distresses me all the more on account of Arkady's. I expect I shall see him," replied Bazarov, in whom every kind of explanation and pronouncement always aroused a feeling of impatience. In case I don't, may I ask you to say good-bye to him for me and to accept the expression of my regret? And I, too, ask," began Nikolai Petrovich with a bow. But Bazarov did not wait for him to finish his sentence and went out of the room. On hearing that Bazarov was going, Pavel Petrovich expressed a desire to see him and shook him by the hand. But even then Bazarov remained as cold as ice. He realized that Pavel Petrovich wanted to display magnanimity. He found no opportunity of saying good-bye to Fenichka. He only exchanged glances with her from the window. Her face struck him by its sad look. She'll come to grief, probably, he said to himself, though she may pull through somehow. Piotr, however, was so overcome that he wept on his shoulder until Bazarov cooled him down by asking if he had a constant water supply in his eyes. And Dunyasha felt obliged to run away into the plantation to hide her emotion. The origin of all this distress climbed into a country cart, lit a cigar, and when, three miles further on, at a bend in the road, he saw for the last time the Kirsanov's farmstead and its new manor house standing together on the skyline, he merely spat and muttering, damned nobleman, wrapped himself more tightly in his cloak. Pavel Petrovich was soon better, but he had to lie in bed for about a week. He bore his captivity, as he called it, fairly patiently, though he took great trouble over his toilet and had everything scented with Oda Cologne. Nikolai Petrovich read papers to him. Fenichka waited on him as before, brought him soup, lemonade, boiled eggs, and tea. But a secret dread seized her every time she came into his room. Pavel Petrovich's unexpected action had alarmed everyone in the house and her most of all. Prakovich was the only person not troubled by it, and he discoursed on how gentlemen used to fight in his day only with real gentlemen. But such low scoundrels they would have ordered to be horsewhipped in the stables for their insolence. Fenichka's conscience scarily reproached her, but she was tormented at times by the thought of the real cause of the quarrel. And Pavel Petrovich, too, looked at her so strangely, so that even when her back was turned she felt his eyes fixed on her. She grew thinner from constant inward agitation, and, as it happened, became still more charming. One day, the incident took place in the early morning, Pavel Petrovich felt better and moved from his bed to the sofa, while Nikolai Petrovich, having previously made inquiries about his brother's health, went off to the threshing floor. Fenichka brought him a cup of tea, and setting it down on a little table was about to withdraw. Pavel Petrovich detained her. Where are you going in such a hurry, Fedosya Nikolayevna? he began. Are you so busy? No. Yes, I have to pour out tea. Dunyasha will do that without you. Sit down for a little while with an invalid. By the way, I must have a talk with you." Fenichka sat down on the edge of an armchair without speaking. Listen, said Pavel Petrovich, pulling at his mustache. I have wanted to ask you for a long time. You seem somehow afraid of me. I—yes, you. You never look at me in the face as if your conscience were not clear. Fenichka blushed but looked up at Pavel Petrovich. He seemed so strange to her, and her heart began quietly throbbing. Surely you have a clear conscience, he asked her. Why should it not be clear? she whispered. Why indeed? Besides, whom could you have wronged? Me? That is unlikely. Any other people living in the house? That is also a fantastic idea. Could it be my brother? But surely you love him? I love him. With your whole soul? With your whole heart? I love Nikolai Petrovich with my whole heart. Truly? Look at me, Fenichka. He called her by that name for the first time. You know it is a great sin to tell lies. I am not lying, Pavel Petrovich. If I did not love Nikolai Petrovich, there would be no point in my living any longer. And you will never give him up for anyone else? For whom else could I give him up? For whom indeed? Well, what about that gentleman who has just gone away from here? Fenichka got up. My God, Pavel Petrovich, why are you torturing me? What have I done to you? How can you say such things? Fenichka said Pavel Petrovich in a sad voice. You know I saw. What did you see? Well, there in the summer-house. Fenichka blushed to the roots of her hair and to her ears. How can I be blamed for that? she pronounced with an effort. Pavel Petrovich raised himself up. You were not to blame? No, not at all. I love Nikolai Petrovich and no one else in the world, and I shall always love him, cried Fenichka with sudden force, while sobs rose in her throat. As for what you saw, I will say in the dreadful day of last judgment that I am innocent of any blame for it and always was. And I would rather die at once if people can suspect me of any such thing against my benefactor Nikolai Petrovich. But here her voice failed, and at the same moment she felt that Pavel Petrovich was seizing and pressing her hand. She looked at him and was almost petrified. He had turned even paler than before. His eyes were shining, and most surprising of all, one large solitary tear was rolling down his cheek. Fenichka, he said in a strange whisper, Love him, love my brother, he is such a good kind man. Don't give him up for anyone, and don't listen to anyone else's talk. Only think what can be more terrible than to love and not to be loved in return. Never leave my poor Nikolai. Fenichka's eyes were dry, and her fright had vanished, so great was her amazement. But what were her feelings when Pavel Petrovich, Pavel Petrovich of all people, pressed her hand to his lips, and seemed to pierce into it without kissing it, only breathing convulsively from time to time? Good heavens, she thought. Is he suffering from some attack? At that moment his whole ruined life stirred within him. The staircase creaked under rapidly approaching footsteps. He pushed her away from him and let his head drop back on the pillow. The door opened, and Nikolai Petrovich came in, looking cheerful, fresh and ruddy. Mitya, just as fresh and rosy as his father, with nothing but his little shirt on, was frisking about in his arms, snatching with bare little toes at the buttons of his rough country coat. Fenichka simply flung herself upon him and, clasping him and her son together in her arms, dropped her head on his shoulder. Nikolai Petrovich was astonished. Fenichka, so shy and modest, never demonstrated her feelings for him in front of a third person. What's the matter, he said, and glancing at his brother, he handed Mitya to her. You don't feel worse, he asked, going up to Pavel Petrovich, who buried his face in a camber cankerchief. No, not at all. On the contrary, I am much better. You shouldn't have been in such a hurry to move to the sofa. Where are you going? added Nikolai Petrovich, turning towards Fenichka. But she had already closed the door behind her. I was bringing my young hero in to show you. He has been crying for his uncle. Why did she carry him off? What's wrong with you, though? Has anything happened between you? Brother, said Pavel Petrovich, gravely, give me your word to carry out my one request. What request? Tell me. It is very important. It seems to me the whole happiness of your life depends on it. I have been thinking a lot all this time about what I want to say to you now. Brother, do your duty, the duty of an honest and generous man. Put an end to the scandal and the bad example you are setting. You, the best of men. What do you mean, Pavel? Mary Fenichka. She loves you. She is the mother of your son. Nikolai Petrovich moved a step backwards and threw up his hand. You say that, Pavel? You, whom I always took for the most relentless opponent of such marriages? You say that? But don't you know that I was only out of respect for you that I have not done what you rightly called my duty? Your respect for me was quite mistaken in this case, said Pavel Petrovich with a weary smile. I begin to think that Bazarov was right when he accused me of being an aristocratic snob. No, dear brother, let us stop worrying ourselves about the opinion of the outside world. We are elderly, humble people by now. It's high time we laid aside all these empty vanities. We must do our duty, just as you say, and maybe we shall find happiness that way in addition. Nikolai Petrovich rushed over to embrace his brother. You have really opened my eyes, he exclaimed. I was right in always maintaining that you are the kindest and wisest man in the world, and now I see you are just as reasonable as you are generous-minded. Softly, softly, Pavel Petrovich interrupted him. Don't knock the leg of your reasonable brother, who at close on fifty has been fighting a duel like a young lieutenant. So then the matter is settled. Feniska is to be my bel-sir. My darling Pavel, but what will Arkady say? Arkady? He'll be enthusiastic, of course. Marriage is not a principle for him, but on the other hand, his sentiment of equality will be gratified. Yes, and after all, what is the good of caste diversions? Oh, de nevieme siacle! Ah, Pavel Pavel, let me kiss you once more. Don't be afraid, I'll be careful. The two brothers embraced each other. What do you think? Shouldn't you tell her straight away what you intend to do? Why should we hurry? answered Nikolai Petrovich. Did you have a conversation with her? Our conversation between us? Kelly Day! Well, that's all right. First of all, you must get well. It won't run away from us, and meanwhile we must think it over and consider. But surely you have made up your mind? Of course I have, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will leave you now. You must rest. Any excitement is bad for you. But we will talk it over another time. Go to sleep, my dear, and God grant you good health. Why does he thank me like that, thought Pavel Petrovich, when he was left alone, as if it did not depend on himself? Then, as soon as he marries, I will go away somewhere, far from here, to Dresden or Florence, and I will live there till I expire. Pavel Petrovich moistened his forehead with odour cologne and closed his eyes. Lit up by the brilliant daylight, his beautiful emaciated head lay on the white pillow like the head of a dead man. And, indeed, he was a dead man. CHAPTER XXV At Nikolsko Katya and Arkady were sitting in the garden on a turf seat in the shade of a tall ash tree. Fifi had placed herself on the ground near them, giving her long body that graceful curve which is known among sportsmen as the Hare's Bend. Both Arkady and Katya were silent. He held in his hands a half-open book, while she was picking out of a basket some remaining crumbs of white bread and throwing them to the small family of sparrows, which with their peculiar cowardly impudence were chirping and hopping around right up to her feet. A faint breeze, stirring the ash leaves, kept gently moving pale gold patches of sunlight up and down across the shady path and over Fifi's back. An unbroken shadow fell on Arkady and Katya, only from time to time a bright streak gleaned in her hair. Both were silent, but the way in which they were silent and getting together indicated a certain confidential friendliness. Each of them seemed not to be thinking of the other while secretly rejoicing at each other's presence. Their faces, too, had changed since we saw them last. Arkady seemed more composed and Katya brighter and more self-confident. "'Don't you think,' began Arkady, that the ash has been very well named in Russian, Yasin? Not a single other tree is so light and translusively clear, Yasino, against the sky.' Katya raised her eyes upwards and murmured, "'Yes,' and Arkady thought. Well, she doesn't reproach me for talking poetically.' "'I don't care for Haina,' said Katya, glancing at the book which Arkady held in his hands, either when he laughs or when he weeps. I like him when he is thoughtful and sad.' "'And I like him when he laughs,' remarked Arkady. "'Those are the relics of your old satirical tendency.' "'Relics,' thought Arkady, if Bazarov could have heard that.' "'Wait a bit. We shall transform you.' "'Who will transform me? You?' "'Who?' "'My sister, Porfiry Platonovich, whom you stopped quarreling with. My aunt, whom you escorted to church the day before yesterday.' "'Well, I couldn't refuse. But as for Anasurgeyevna, you remember she agreed with Evgeny in a great many things.' "'My sister was under his influence then, just as you were.' "'As I was. Have you noticed that I've already shaken off his influence?' "'Katya remained silent.' "'I know,' continued Arkady, you never liked him. "'I'm unable to judge him.' "'Do you know, Katarina Sergeyevna, every time I hear that answer, I don't believe it. There is no one beyond the capacity of judgment of any of us. That is just a pretext for getting out of it.' "'Well, I'll tell you then. He is not because I don't like him, but I feel he is quite alien to me, and I am alien to him. And you too are alien to him.' "'Why is that?' "'How can I tell you? He's a wild beast, while we are both domestic animals.' "'And am I a domestic animal?' "'Katya nodded her head.' Arkady scratched his ear. "'Listen, Katarina Sergeyevna, surely that is in the nature of an insult.' "'Why, would you rather be wild?' "'Not wild, but powerful, energetic.' "'It's no good wishing to be that. Your friend, you see, doesn't wish for it, but he has it.' "'Hmm, so you suppose he had a great influence on Anaseta Sergeyevna?' "'Yes, but no one can keep the upper hand of her for long,' added Katya in a low voice. "'Why do you think that?' "'She's very proud. I didn't mean to say that. She values her independence very much.' "'Who doesn't value it?' asked Arkady, and the thought flashed through his mind. What is it for?' The same thought occurred to Katya. Young people who are friendly and often together constantly find themselves thinking the same thoughts. Arkady smiled, and coming a little closer to Katya, he said in a whisper, "'Confess. You are a little afraid of her.' "'Of whom?' "'Of her,' repeated Arkady, significantly. "'And how about you?' asked Katya in her turn. "'I am also. Please note, I said, I am also.' Katya wagged her finger at him, threateningly. "'I wonder at that,' she began. "'My sister has never felt so friendly towards you as just now. Much more than when you first came here.' "'Fancy that. And you haven't noticed it? Aren't you glad about it?' Arkady became thoughtful. "'How have I succeeded in winning Anaseta Sergeyevna's favour? Could it be because I brought her your mother's letters?' "'Both for that and for other reasons, which I won't tell you.' "'Why?' "'I shan't say.' "'Oh, I know. You're very obstinate.' "'Yes, I am.' "'And, observant.' Katya cast a side-long glance at Arkady. "'Perhaps so. Does that annoy you?' "'What are you thinking about?' "'I'm wondering how you have grown to be so observant as you certainly are. You are so shy and distrustful. You keep everyone at a distance. "'I live so much alone. That in itself leads to thoughtfulness. "'But do I keep everyone at a distance?' Arkady flung a grateful glance at Katya. "'That's all very well,' he went on. "'But people in your position, I mean with your fortune, seldom possess that gift. It is hard for them, as it is for emperors, to get at the truth. "'But, you see, I am not rich.' Arkady was surprised and did not at once understand, Katya. "'Why, as a matter of fact, the property is all her sisters,' struck him suddenly. The thought was not disagreeable to him. "'How nicely you said that,' he remarked. "'What?' "'You said it nicely, simply, without either being ashamed or making much of it. "'By the way, I imagine there must always be something special, a kind of pride in the feeling of a person who knows and says that he is poor.' "'I have never experienced anything of that sort, thanks to my sister. I referred to my position just now, only because it happened to come up in our conversation. "'Well, but you must admit that even you have something of that pride I spoke of just now.' "'For instance?' "'For instance, surely you, excuse my question, you wouldn't be willing to marry a rich man?' "'If I loved him very much, no, probably even then I wouldn't marry him.' "'There, you see,' cried Arkady, and after a moment's pause,' he added. "'And why wouldn't you marry him?' "'Because even in the ballads, unequal matches are always unlucky.' "'Perhaps you want to dominate or...' "'Oh, no! What's the good of that?' "'On the contrary, I'm ready to obey. Only inequality is difficult. "'But to keep one's self-respect and to obey, that I can understand. That is happiness. But a subordinate existence? No. I've had enough of that as it is. Had enough of that?' repeated Arkady after Katya. "'You're not Anna Sergeyevna's sister for nothing. You're just as independent as she is. But you're more reserved. I'm sure you would never be the first to express your feelings, however strong or sacred.' "'Well, what would you expect?' asked Katya. "'You are equally intelligent. You have as much character, if not more, than she.' "'Don't compare me with my sister, please,' interrupted Katya hurriedly. "'It puts me too much at a disadvantage. You seem to forget that my sister is beautiful and clever and...' "'You, in particular,' Arkady Nikolaevich, ought not to say such things and with such a serious face, too.' "'What does that mean? You, in particular. And what makes you conclude that I'm joking?' "'Of course you're joking.' "'Do you think so? But what if I'm convinced of what I say? If I find that, I've not even put it strongly enough.' "'I don't understand you.' "'Really? Well, now I see that I certainly overestimated your powers of observation. How is that?' Arkady made no answer and turned away. But Katya searched for a few more crumbs in the basket and began throwing them to the sparrows. But she moved her arm too vigorously and the birds flew away without stopping to pick them up. "'Katerina Sergeyevna,' began Arkady suddenly. "'It is probably a matter of indifference to you. But you should know I would not exchange you, neither for your sister nor for anyone else in the world.' He got up and walked quickly away as if he were frightened by the words which had burst from his lips. Katya let her two hands drop together with the basket onto her knees and with bowed head she gazed for some time after Arkady. Gradually a crimson flush spread a little to her cheeks but her eyes did not smile and her dark eyes had a look of perplexity and of some other still undefined feeling. "'Are you alone?' sounded the voice of Anna Sergeyevna, quite close to her. "'I thought you came into the garden with Arkady.' Katya slowly raised her eyes to her sister, elegantly, almost elaborately dressed. She was standing on the path and tickling off his ears with the tip of her parasol. And slowly answered, "'I'm alone.' "'So I see,' answered the other sister with a laugh. I suppose he has gone back to his room.' "'Yes.' "'Were you reading together?' "'Yes.' Anna Sergeyevna took Katya under the chin and raised her face. "'You didn't quarrel, I hope?' "'No,' said Katya, quietly moving away her sister's hand. "'How solemnly you answer! I thought I should find him here and was going to suggest a walk with him. He keeps on asking me about it. They have brought your new shoes from the town. Go and try them on.' I noticed yesterday that your old ones are quite worn out. "'Really, you don't pay enough attention to these things. But all the same, you've got such lovely little feet. And your hands are good. Only rather large. So you must make the most of your feet. But you're not a flirt!' Anna Sergeyevna went farther down the path, her beautiful dress rustling slightly as she walked. Katya rose from the bench and taking Hina with her also went off, only not to try on the new shoes. "'Lovely little feet,' she thought, as she slowly and lightly mounted the stone steps of the terrace, which were burning from the heat of the sun. "'Lovely little feet, you call them. Well, he shall be at my feet!' But a feeling of shame came across her at once, and she ran swiftly upstairs. Arkady was going along the passage to his room when he was overtaken by the butler, who announced that Mr. Bazarov was sitting in his room. "'Evgeny!' muttered Arkady in a startled tone. "'Has he been here long?' "'He has arrived only this minute, and gave orders not to be announced to Anna Sergeyevna, but to be shown straight up to him. "'Can any misfortune have happened at home?' thought Arkady, and running hardly up the stairs he opened the door at once. The sight of Bazarov immediately reassured him, though a more experienced eye would probably have discerned signs of inward excitement in the sunken but still energetic face of the unexpected visitor. With a dusty cloak over his shoulders and a cap on his head he was sitting by the window. He did not even get up when Arkady flung himself on his neck with loud exclamations. "'Well, how unexpected! What good luck has brought you?' he kept on repeating, bustling about the room like someone who both imagines and wants to show that he is pleased. "'I suppose everything is all right at home. They're all well, aren't they?' "'Everything is all right there, but not everyone is well,' said Bazarov. "'But don't go on chattering. Get them to bring me some kvass. Sit down and listen to what I'm going to tell you, in a few, but I hope fairly vigorous, sentences.' Arkady kept quiet while Bazarov told him about his duel with Pavel Petrovich. Arkady was greatly surprised and even upset, but he did not think it necessary to show this. He asked only whether his uncle's wound was really not serious, and on receiving the reply that it was, most interesting, though not from a medical point of view, he gave a forced smile, but he felt sick at heart and somehow ashamed. Bazarov seemed to understand him. "'Yes, brother,' he said. "'You see what comes of living with feudal people. One becomes feudal oneself and takes part in nightly tournaments.' "'Well, so I set off for my father's place,' Bazarov concluded. "'And on the way I turned in here to tell you all this, I should say if I didn't think any useless and stupid lie. No, I turned in here. The devil knows why. You see, it's sometimes a good thing for a man to take himself by the scruff of the neck and pull himself away, like a radish out of its bed. That's what I've just done, but I wanted to take one more look at what I've parted company with, at the bed where I've been sitting.' "'I hope that those words don't apply to me,' retorted Arkady intently. "'I hope you don't think of parting from me.'" Bazarov looked at him intently. His eyes were almost piercing. "'Would that upset you so much?' "'It strikes me that you have parted from me already. You look so fresh and smart. Your affairs with Anna Sergeyevna must be cheating very well.' "'What do you mean by my affairs with Anna Sergeyevna?' "'Why, didn't you come here from the town on her account, my little bird? By the way, how are those Sunday schools getting on? Do you mean to tell me you're not in love with her? Or have you already reached the stage of being bashful about it?' "'Evgeny, you know I've always been frank with you. I can assure you, I swear to you, you're making a mistake.'" "'A new story,' remarked Bazarov under his breath. But you needn't get agitated about it, for it's a matter of complete indifference to me. A romantic would say, I feel that our roads are beginning to branch out in different directions, but I will simply say that we're tired of each other.' "'Evgeny, there's no harm in that, my good soul. One gets tired of plenty of other things in the world. And now I think we'd better say goodbye. Ever since I've been here I've felt so disgusting as if I'd been reading a Gogol's letter to the wife of the Governor of Kaluga. By the way, I didn't tell them to unharness the forces. Good heavens, that's impossible!' "'And why?' "'I say nothing of myself, but it would be the height of discourtesy to Anasurgeyevna, who will certainly want to see you.' "'Well, you're mistaken there.' "'On the contrary, I'm convinced that I'm right,' retorted Arkady. "'And what are you pretending for? For that matter haven't you come here because of her?' "'That might even be true, but you're mistaken all the same.' "'But Arkady was right. Anasurgeyevna wanted to see Bazarov and sent a message to him to that effect through the butler. Bazarov changed his clothes before he went to her. It turned out that he had packed his new suit in such a way as to be able to get out easily. Madame Odinstov received him, not in the room where he had so unexpectedly declared his love to her, but in the drawing-room. She held her fingertips out to him amiably, but her face showed signs of involuntary tension. "'Anasurgeyevna,' Bazarov hastened to say, "'first of all, I must set your mind at rest. Before you stands a simple mortal, who came to his senses long ago, and hopes that other people, too, have forgotten his follies. I am going away for a long time, and though I am by no means a soft creature, I should be sorry to carry away with me the thought that you remember me with abhorrence.' Anasurgeyevna gave a deep sigh, like one who was just climbed to the top of a high mountain, and her face lit up with a smile. She held out her hand to Bazarov a second time, and responded to his pressure. "'Let bygones be bygones,' she said. All the more so, since to say what is on my conscience, I was also to blame then, either for flirting or for something else. In a word, let us be friends as we were before. The other was a dream, wasn't it? And who remembers them? And, besides love, surely it's an imaginary feeling.' "'Indeed, I'm very pleased to hear that,' Anasurgeyevna expressed herself thus, and so did Bazarov. They both thought they were speaking the truth. Was the truth the whole truth to be found in their words? They themselves did not know. Much less could the author. But a conversation ensued between them, just as if they believed one another completely.' Anasurgeyevna asked Bazarov, among other things, what he had been doing at the Kyrsynos. He was on the point of telling her about his duel with Pavel Petrovich, but he checked himself with the plot that she might suppose he was trying to make himself interesting, and answered that he had been working the whole time. "'And I,' observed Anasurgeyevna, had a fit of depression to start with, goodness knows why. I even planned to go abroad, just fancy. But that passed off. Your friend Arkady Nikolaevich arrived, and I settled down to my routine again, to my proper function.' "'And what is that function, may I ask?' "'To be an aunt, guardian, mother, call it what you like. Incidentally, do you know I used not to understand before your close friendship with Arkady Nikolaevich? I found him rather insignificant. But now I have got to know him better, and I recognize his intelligence. But he is young, so young, it's a great thing, not like you and me, Evgenia Vasilich.' "'Is he still shy in your presence?' asked Bazarov. "'But was he,' began Anasurgeyevna, and after a short pause she went on, "'he has grown more trustful now. He talks to me. Formally he used to avoid me. Though, as a matter of fact, I didn't seek his society, either. He is more Katya's friend.' Bazarov felt vexed. "'A woman can't help being a hypocrite,' he thought. "'You say he used to avoid you?' he said aloud with a cold smile. But probably it's no secret to you that he was in love with you.' "'What? He too?' ejaculated Anasurgeyevna. "'He too,' repeated Bazarov with a submissive bow. "'Can it be that you didn't know it, and that I've told you something new?' Anasurgeyevna lowered her eyes. "'You are mistaken, Evgenia Vasilich.' "'I don't think so. But perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it.' "'And don't you try to fool me any more,' he added to himself.' "'Why not mention it? But I imagine that here as well you attach too much importance to a transitory impression. I begin to suspect that you are inclined to exaggerate.' "'We had better not talk about that,' Anasurgeyevna.' "'And why?' she replied. But herself diverted the conversation into another channel. She still felt ill at ease with Bazarov, though she had both told and assured herself that everything was forgotten. While exchanging the simplest remarks with him, even when she joked with him, she was conscious of an embarrassed fear. Thus do people on a steamer at sea talk and laugh recklessly, for all the world is if they were on dry land. But the moment there is some hitch, if the smallest sign appears of something unusual, there emerges at once on every face an expression of peculiar alarm revealing the constant awareness of constant danger. Anasurgeyevna's conversation with Bazarov did not last long. She began to be absorbed in her own thoughts, to answer absentmindedly and ended by suggesting that they should go into the hall where they found the princess and Katya. "'But where is Arkady Nikolaevich?' asked the hostess, and on hearing that he had not been seen for more than an hour, she sent someone to look for him. He was not found at once. He had hidden himself away in the wildest part of the garden, and with his chin propped on his folded hands he was sitting wrapped in thought. His thoughts were deep and serious, but not mournful. He knew that Anasurgeyevna was sitting alone with Bazarov, and he felt no jealousy as he had before. On the contrary, his face slowly brightened. It seemed as if he was at once wondering and rejoicing and deciding to do something. Chapter 26 The late Audenstov had disliked innovations, but he admitted a certain play of ennobled taste, and had consequently erected in his garden between the hot-house and the lake a building in the style of a creek temple made of Russian brick. Along the windowless back wall of this temple, or gallery, were placed six niches for statues which Audenstov proceeded to order from abroad. These statues were intended to represent solitude, silence, meditation, melancholy, modesty, and sensibility. One of them, the goddess of silence, with her finger on her lips, had been delivered and placed in position. But on the very same day some of the farm boys knocked off her nose, and although the neighboring plasterer undertook to make her a new nose, twice as good as the previous one, Audenstov ordered her to be removed, and she could still be seen in the corner of the threshing barn where she had stood for many years a source of superstitious terror to the peasant women. The front part of the temple had long ago been overgrown with thick bushes. Only the capitals of the columns could be seen above the green. Inside the temple itself it was cool even at midday. Anna Sergeyevna did not like visiting this place ever since she had seen a snake there. But Katya often came and sat on a wide stone seat constructed under one of the niches. Here, surrounded by shade and coolness, she used to read and work, or give herself up to that sensation of perfect peace, known probably to everyone, the charm of which consists in the half-conscious mute listening to that vast current of life which uninterruptedly flows both around us and within us. On the day after Bizarro's arrival Katya was sitting on her favorite stone seat, and Arkady was sitting beside her again. He had begged her to come with him to the temple. It was about an hour before lunchtime the dewy morning had given place to a hot day. Arkady's face retained the expression of the preceding day. Katya looked preoccupied. Her sister immediately after their morning tea had called her into her study and after some preliminary caresses, which always rather alarmed Katya, advised her to be more guarded in her behavior with Arkady, and to avoid solitary talks with him which had attracted the attention of her aunt and the household. Apart from that, Anna Sergeyevna was still in a bad mood from the evening before, and Katya herself felt embarrassed, as if she had done something wrong. When she yielded to Arkady's entreaties, she said to herself that it was for the last time. Katya Reena Sergeyevna. He began with a sort of bashful carelessness. Ever since I have had the happiness of living under the same roof with you, I have discussed many things with you. But meanwhile there is one very important question, for me, which I have not yet touched on. You remarked yesterday that I have been transformed here. He went on at once catching and avoiding the inquiring look which Katya fixed on him. In fact, I have changed a lot, and you know that better than anyone else. You, to whom above all I owe this change. I? Me? said Katya. I am no longer now the conceited boy I was when I arrived here, went on Arkady. I have not reached the age of twenty-three for nothing. As before I want to be useful. I want to devote all my powers to the truth. But I don't look for my ideals where I used to look before. They have shown themselves to me so much nearer. Up till now I failed to understand myself. I set myself tasks which were beyond my strength. My eyes have recently been opened, thanks to one feeling. I am not expressing myself quite clearly, but I hope you understand me. Katya made no reply, but she stopped looking at Arkady. I suppose, he began again, this time in a more agitated voice, while above his head a chaffinch sang its song heedlessly among the leaves of a birch tree. I suppose it is the duty of every honest person to be absolutely frank with those people who, in a word, with those who are near to him. And so I intend, but at this point Arkady's eloquence abandoned him. He fumbled for words, stammered, and was obliged to pause for a while. Katya still did not raise her eyes. It seemed as though she did not even understand what he was leading up to with all this, as though she were awaiting something. I foresee that I shall surprise you, began Arkady pulling himself together again with an effort, all the more since this feeling is connected in a certain way, in a certain way, remember, with you. You reproached me yesterday, you remember, for a lack of seriousness. Arkady went on with the air of a person who has walked into a swamp, feels that he is sinking in deeper and deeper at every step, and yet hurries forward in the hope of crossing it quicker. That reproach is often aimed, often false, on young men even when they no longer deserve it. And if I had more self- confidence, come, help me, do help me, Arkady was thinking in desperation, but Katya kept her head averted as before. If I could hope, if I could feel convinced of what you said, sounded at that moment the clear voice of Anna Sergeyevna, Arkady fell silent at once and Katya turned pale. Alongside the very bushes which screened the temple ran a little path. Anna Sergeyevna was walking along it, accompanied by Bazarov. Katya and Arkady could not see them, but they heard every word, the rustle of their clothes, their very breathing. They walked on a few steps, and then, as if on purpose, stopped right opposite the temple. You see, continued Anna Sergeyevna, you and I made a mistake. We have both passed our first youthful stage, I particularly. We have seen life, we are tired, we are both intelligent, why pretend otherwise? At first we were interested in each other, our curiosity was aroused, and afterwards, and afterwards my interest fell flat, interposed to Bazarov. You know that was not the cause of our misunderstanding. But however that may be, we did not need each other, that's the main thing. There was in us, how shall I put it, too much of the same thing. We did not realize that straight away. Now, Arkady on the contrary, do you need him? Ask Bazarov. Stop, Evgeny Vasilich! You say he is not indifferent to me, and it always seemed to me that he liked me. I know that I could well be his aunt, but I don't want to conceal from you that I have begun to think about him more often. In that fresh youthful feeling there is a special charm. The word fascination is more often used in such cases, interrupted Bazarov. A violent suppressed bitterness could be detected in the steady but hollow tone of his voice. Arkady was secretive with me about something yesterday, and wouldn't talk about either you or your sister. That's a serious symptom. He's just like a brother with Katya, remarked Anna Sergeyevna, and I like that in him, though perhaps I ought not to have let them become so intimate. Is that idea prompted by your feelings as a sister? said Bazarov, dragging out his word. Of course, but why are we standing here? Let us go on. What a strange talk we're having, aren't we? I could never have believed I should talk to you like this. You know, I'm afraid of you, and at the same time I trust you, because at bottom you are very good. In the first place I'm far from good, and in the second place I no longer mean anything to you, and you tell me that I am good. It's just like placing a wreath of flowers round the head of a corpse. Evgenya Vasilich, we are not masters, began Anna Sergeyevna, but a gust of wind blew across, started the leaves rustling, and carried away her words. Of course you are free, said Bazarov, after a pause. Nothing more could be distinguished. The steps went farther away. All became quiet again. Arkady turned to Katya. She was sitting in the same position, but her head bent still lower. Katerina Sergeyevna, he said, his voice shook and he clenched his hands. I love you, forever and irrevocably, and I love no one except you. I wanted to tell you this, to find out what you will say and to ask you to marry me. Because, of course, I'm not rich and I feel ready for any kind of sacrifice. You don't answer. You don't believe me? Do you think I'm talking lightly? But remember these last days. Surely you must be convinced by now that everything else, you understand me, absolutely everything else, has vanished long ago and left no trace. Look at me. Say one word to me. I love. I love you. Believe me. Katya turned her eyes to Arkady with a grave and radiant look. And after a long, reflective pause, she murmured, smiling slightly. Yes. Arkady jumped up from the seat. Yes. You said yes, Katerina Sergeyevna. What does that word mean? Just that I love you, that you believe me, or I dare not go on? Yes, repeated Katya, and this time he understood her. He seized her large, beautiful hands and, breathless with enthusiasm, he pressed them to his heart. He could hardly stand on his feet and only kept on repeating, Katya! Katya! And she began to weep in such an innocent way, smiling gently at her own tears. Whoever has not seen such tears in the eyes of a beloved person has not yet experienced to what an extent, overwhelmed with gratitude and awe, a human being may find happiness on earth. The next day, in the early morning, Anna Sergeyevna sent a message asking Bazarov to come to her study, and with a strained laugh she handed him a folded sheet of note-paper. It was a letter from Arkady, in which he asked for her sister's hand in marriage. Bazarov quickly read through the letter, and could only with some effort conceal the malicious impulse which at once flared up within him. So there it is, he remarked, and apparently you thought no longer ago than yesterday that his feelings for Katya and Sergeyevna were of the brotherly sort. What do you intend to do now? What would you advise me to do, asked Anna Sergeyevna, continuing to laugh? Well, I suppose, answered Bazarov also with a laugh, though he felt anything but gay and no more wanted a laugh than she did. I suppose you ought to give the young people your blessing. It's a good match from every point of view. Kirsanov is tolerably well off, he's the only son, and his father's a good-natured fellow, he won't object. Madame Odonstav walked up and down the room. Her face flushed and turned pale by turns. You think so, she said. Well, I see no obstacles. I'm glad for Katya and for Arkady Nikolaevich. Of course I shall wait for his father's answer. I will send him in person to him. So it turns out that I was right yesterday when I told you that we have both become old people. How was it I noticed nothing? That surprises me. Anna Sergeyevna laughed again and quickly turned her head away. The younger generation of today has grown painfully cunning, remarked Bazarov, and he also gave a short laugh. Good-bye! he began again after a short silence. I hope you will bring this affair to the most agreeable conclusion, and I will rejoice from a distance. Madame Odonstav turned to him quickly. Are you going away? Why shouldn't you stay now? Do stay. It's such fun talking to you. One seems to be walking on the edge of a precipice. At first one feels timid, but one gets somehow exhilarated as one goes along. Won't you stay? Thank you for the invitation, Anna Sergeyevna, and for your flattering opinion of my conversational talents. But I find I've already been moving around for too long in a sphere which is alien to me. Flying fish can hold out for a time in the air, but soon they have to splash back into the water. You must allow me too to flop down into my natural element. Madame Odonstav looked at Bazarov. A bitter smile twisted his pale face. This man loved me, she thought, and she felt sorry for him and held out her hand with sympathy. But he too understood her. No, he said, stepping back a pace. I'm a poor man, but I've never accepted charity so far. Goodbye, and good luck. I am sure that we are not seeing each other for the last time, said Anna Sergeyevna, with an unconscious movement. Anything can happen in this world, answered Bazarov, and he bowed and went out. So you propose to build yourself a nest? He said the same day to Arkady, crouching on the floor as he packed his trunk. Well, it's a good thing. Only you needn't have been such a humbug about it. I expected you'd go in quite a different direction. Perhaps, though, it took you unawares. I certainly didn't expect this when I left you, answered Arkady. But why are you being a humbug yourself and calling it a good thing, as if I didn't know your opinion of marriage? Ah, my dear friend, said Bazarov, how you express yourself. You see what I'm doing. There happened to be an empty space in my trunk, and I'm putting hay into it. That's how it is with the luggage of our life. We would stuff it up with anything rather than leave a void. Don't be offended, please. You probably remember what I always thought of Katerina Sergeyevna. Many a young lady is called intelligent simply because she can sigh intelligently. But yours can hold her own, and indeed she'll hold it so well that she'll have you under her thumb. Well, and that's quite as it should be. He slammed the lid and got up from the floor. And now I say again, farewell, because it's useless to deceive ourselves. We are parting forever, and you know it yourself. You acted sensibly. You are not made for our bitter, rough, lonely existence. There's no daring in you, no hatred, though you've got youthful dash and youthful fervor. That's not enough for our business. Your sort, the nobility, can never go farther than noble resignation or noble indignation, but those things are trifles. For instance, you won't fight, and yet you fancy yourselves as brave fellows. But we want a fight. So there. Our dust would get into your eyes. Our mud would soil you. But you're not up to our standard. You unconsciously admire yourselves, and you enjoy finding fault with yourselves. But we're fed up with all that. We want something else. We want to smash people. You're a fine fellow. But all the same, you're a mild little liberal gentleman. I volatoo, as my parent would say. You are bidding good-bye to me forever, Evgeny," said Arkady sadly. And you have nothing else to say to me. Bazarov scratched the back of his head. Yes, Arkady, I have other things to say to you, but I won't say them, because that's Romanticism. That means sentimental trash. But you hurry up and marry, settle down in your nest, and have as many children as you like. They'll have the gumption to be born in a better time than you and me. Aha! I see the horses are ready. It's time to go. I've said good-bye to everyone. Well, what's this? Embracing, eh? Arkady threw himself on the neck of his former teacher and friend, and tears fairly streamed from his eyes. That's what comes of being young," remarked Bazarov calmly. But I rely on Katerina Sergeyevna. You'll see how quickly she can console you. Farewell, brother," he called out to Arkady as he was already climbing into the cart and pointing to a pair of jackdaws, sitting side by side on the roof of the stables. He added, There you are. Learn from the example. What does that mean? asked Arkady. What? Are you so weak in natural history, or have you forgotten that the jackdaw is a most respectable family bird? An example to you. Goodbye," the cart creaked and rolled away. Bazarov spoke the truth. Talking that evening with Katya, Arkady had completely forgotten about his former teacher. He had already begun to follow her lead, and Katya felt this and was not surprised. He was to set off the next day to Marino to see Nikolai Petrovich. Anna Sergeyevna had no wish to hamper the freedom of the young people. But on account of decorum she did not leave them alone for too long. She generously kept the princess out of their way. The old lady had been reduced to a state of tearful frenzy by the news of the approaching marriage. At first Anna Sergeyevna was afraid that the sight of their happiness would prove rather upsetting to herself, but it turned out to the contrary. It not only did not upset her to see their happiness, it occupied her mind, and in the end it even soothed her heart. This outcome both gladdened and grieved Anna Sergeyevna. Evidently Bazarov was right, she thought. I have curiosity, nothing but curiosity, and love of a quiet life, and egoism. Children, she said aloud, do you think love is an imaginary feeling? But neither Katya nor Arkady even understood her. They were shy with her. The fragment of conversation which they had accidentally overheard haunted their minds. But Anna Sergeyevna soon relieved their anxieties and that was not difficult for her. She had set her own mind at rest.