fathers and sons by ivan turgenevchapter 19 in spite of her ma5terly self-control andsuperiority to every kind of prejudice, madame odintsov felt awkward when sheentered the dining room for dinner. however, the meal went off quitesatisfactorily. porfiri platonich turned up and toldvarious anecdotes; he had just returned from the town. among other things, he announced that thegovernor had ordered his secretaries on special commissions to wear spurs, in casehe might want to send them off somewhere on horseback, at greater speed.
arkady talked in an undertone to katya, andattended diplomatically to the princess. bazarov maintained a grim and obstinatesilence. madame odintsov glanced at him twice, notfurtively, but straight in his face, which looked stern and choleric, with downcasteyes and a contemptuous determination stamped on every feature, and she thought:"no...no...no." after dinner, she went with the wholecompany into the garden, and seeing that bazarov wanted to speak to her, she walkeda few steps to one side and stopped. he approached her, but even then he did notraise his eyes and said in a husky voice: "i have to apologize to you, annasergeyevna.
you must be furious with me." "no, i'm not angry with you, evgenyvassilich, but i'm upset." "so much the worse.in any case i've been punished enough. i find myself, i'm sure you will agree, ina very stupid position. you wrote to me, 'why go away?'but i can't stay and i don't want to. tomorrow i shall no longer be here." "evgeny vassilich, why are you...""why am i going away?" "no, i didn't mean that." "the past won't return, anna sergeyevna,but sooner or later this was bound to
happen.therefore i must go. i can imagine only one condition whichwould have enabled me to stay: but that condition will never be.for surely--excuse my impudence--you don't love me and never will love me?" bazarov's eyes glittered for a moment fromunder his dark brows. anna sergeyevna did not answer him."i'm afraid of this man," was the thought that flashed through her mind. "farewell then," muttered bazarov, as if heguessed her thought, and he turned back to the house.anna sergeyevna followed him slowly, and
calling katya to her, she took her arm. she kept katya by her side till theevening. she did not play cards and kept onlaughing, which was not at all in keeping with her pale and worried face. arkady was perplexed, and looked at her, asyoung people do, constantly wondering: "what can it mean?"bazarov shut himself up in his room and only reappeared at teatime. anna sergeyevna wanted to say a kind wordto him, but she could not bring herself to address him...
an unexpected incident rescued her from herembarrassment: the butler announced the arrival of sitnikov. words can hardly describe the strangefigure cut by the young champion of progress as he fluttered into the room. he had decided with his characteristicimpudence to go to the country to visit a woman whom he hardly knew, who had neverinvited him, but with whom, as he had ascertained, such talented people and intimate friends of his were staying;nevertheless, he was trembling to the marrow of his bones with fright, andinstead of bringing out the excuses and
compliments which he had learned by heart beforehand, he muttered something idioticabout evdoksya kukshina having sent him to inquire after anna sergeyevna's health andthat arkady nikolayevich had always spoken to him in terms of the highest praise...at this point he faltered and lost hispresence of mind so completely that he sat down on his hat. however, since no one turned him out, andanna sergeyevna even introduced him to her aunt and sister, he soon recovered himselfand began to chatter to his heart's content.
the introduction of something commonplaceis often useful in life; it relieves an overstrained tension, and sobers down self-confident or self-sacrificing feelings by recalling how closely it is related tothem. with sitnikov's appearance everythingbecame somehow duller, more trivial--and easier: they all even ate supper with abetter appetite, and went to bed half an hour earlier than usual. "i can now repeat to you," said arkady, ashe lay down in bed, to bazarov, who was also undressing, "what you once said to me:'why are you so melancholy? it looks as though you were fulfilling somesacred duty.'"
for some time past a tone of artificiallyfree-and-easy banter had sprung up between the two young men, always a sure sign ofsecret dissatisfaction or of unexpressed suspicion. "i'm going to my father's place tomorrow,"said bazarov. arkady raised himself and leaned on hiselbow. he felt both surprised and somehow pleased. "ah," he remarked, "and is that why you aresad?" bazarov yawned."if you know too much, you grow old." "and what about anna sergeyevna?"
"what about her?""i mean, will she let you go?" "i'm not in her employment."arkady became thoughtful while bazarov lay down and turned his face to the wall. some minutes passed in silence."evgeny!" suddenly exclaimed arkady. "well?""i shall also leave tomorrow." bazarov made no answer. "only i shall go home," continued arkady."we will go together as far as khokhlovsky, and there you can get horses at fedot's. i should have been delighted to meet yourpeople, but i'm afraid i should only get in
their way and yours.of course you're coming back to stay with us?" "i've left all my things with you," saidbazarov, without turning round. "why doesn't he ask me why i'm going away?--and just as suddenly as he is?" thought arkady. "as a matter of fact, why am i going, andwhy is he?" he went on reflecting. he could find no satisfactory answer to hisown question, though his heart was filled with some bitter feeling. he felt he would find it hard to part fromthis life to which he had grown so
accustomed; but for him to stay on alonewould also be queer. "something has happened between them," hereasoned to himself; "what's the good of my hanging around here after he has gone?obviously i should bore her stiff, and lose even the little that remains for me." he began to conjure up a picture of annasergeyevna; then other features gradually eclipsed the lovely image of the youngwidow. "i'm sorry about katya too," arkadywhispered to his pillow, on which a tear had already fallen...suddenly he shook backhis hair and said aloud: "what the devil brought that idiotic sitnikov here?"
bazarov started to move about in his bed,and then made the following answer: "i see you're still stupid, my boy.sitnikovs are indispensable to us. for me, don't you understand--i need suchblockheads. in fact, it's not for the gods to bakebricks..." "oho!" thought arkady, and only then he sawin a flash the whole fathomless depth of bazarov's conceit."so you and i are gods, in that case? at least, you're a god, but i suppose i'mone of the blockheads." "yes," repeated bazarov gloomily."you're still stupid." madame odintsov expressed no particularsurprise when arkady told her the next day
that he was going with bazarov; she seemedtired and preoccupied. katya looked at him with silent gravity. the princess went so far as to crossherself under her shawl, so that he could not help noticing it; but sitnikov, on theother hand, was most disconcerted. he had just appeared for. breakfast in asmart new costume, not this time in the slavophil fashion; the previous evening hehad astonished the man appointed to look after him by the quantity of linen he had brought, and now all of a sudden hiscomrades were deserting him! he took a few quick steps, darted roundlike a hunted hare on the edge of a wood,
and abruptly, almost with terror, almostwith a wail, he announced that he also proposed to leave. madame odintsov made no attempt to detainhim. "my carriage is very comfortable," addedthe unlucky young man, turning to arkady; "i can take you, while evgeny vassilichtakes your tarantass, so that will be even more convenient." "but really, it's quite off your road, andit's a long way to where i live." "never mind, that's nothing; i've plenty oftime, besides i have business in that direction."
"selling vodka?" asked arkady, rather toocontemptuously. but sitnikov was already reduced to suchdespair that he did not even laugh as he usually did. "i assure you, my carriage is extremelycomfortable," he muttered, "and there will be room for everyone.""don't upset monsieur sitnikov by refusing...," murmured anna sergeyevna. arkady glanced at her and bowed his headsignificantly. the visitors left after breakfast. as she said good-by to bazarov, madameodintsov held out her hand to him, and
said, "we shall meet again, shan't we?""as you command," answered bazarov. "in that case, we shall." arkady was the first to go out into theporch; he climbed into sitnikov's carriage. the butler tucked him in respectfully, butarkady would gladly have struck him or burst into tears. bazarov seated himself in the tarantass. when they reached khokhlovsky, arkadywaited till fedot, the keeper of the posting station, had harnessed the horses,then going up to the tarantass, he said with his old smile to bazarov, "evgeny,
take me with you, i want to come to yourplace." "get in," muttered bazarov between histeeth. sitnikov, who had been walking up and downby the wheels of his carriage, whistling boldly, could only open his mouth and gapewhen he heard these words; while arkady coolly pulled his luggage out of the carriage, took his seat beside bazarov,and, bowing politely to his former traveling companion, shouted, "drive off!" the tarantass rolled away and was soon outof sight...sitnikov, utterly confused, looked at his coachman, but he was flickinghis whip round the tail of the off-side
horse. finally sitnikov jumped into his carriage--and yelling at two passing peasants, "put on your caps, fools!" he drove to the town,where he arrived very late, and where the next day, at madame kukshin's he spoke severely about two "disgustingly stuck-upand ignorant fellows." sitting in the tarantass alongside bazarov,arkady pressed his friend's hand warmly, and for a long time he said nothing. it seemed as though bazarov appreciatedboth arkady's action and his silence. he had not slept at all the previous night,neither had he smoked, and for several days
he had scarcely eaten anything. his thin profile stood out darkly andsharply from under his cap, which was pulled down over his eyebrows. "well, brother," he said at last, "give mea cigar...but look, i say, is my tongue yellow?""it's yellow," answered arkady. "hm--yes...and the cigar has no taste. the machine is out of gear.""you have certainly changed lately," observed arkady."that's nothing; we shall soon recover. one thing bothers me--my mother is sosofthearted; if your tummy doesn't grow
round as a barrel and you don't eat tentimes a day, she's in despair. my father's all right, he's been everywhereand known all the ups and downs. no, i can't smoke," he added, and flung thecigar away into the dusty road. "do you think it's another sixteen miles toyour place?" asked arkady. "yes, but ask this wise man."he pointed to the peasant sitting on the box, a laborer of fedot's. but the wise man only answered: "who's toknow? miles aren't measured hereabouts," and went on swearing under his breath atthe shaft horse for "kicking with her headpiece," by which he meant, jerking herhead.
"yes, yes," began bazarov, "it's a lessonfor you, my young friend, an instructive example. the devil knows what rubbish it is.every man hangs by a thread, any minute the abyss may open under his feet, and yet hemust go and invent for himself all kinds of troubles and spoil his life." "what are you hinting at?" asked arkady."i'm not hinting at anything; i'm saying plainly that we both behaved like fools.what's the use of talking about it? but i've noticed in hospital work, the manwho's angry with his illness--he's sure to get over it."
"i don't quite understand you," remarkedarkady, "it seems you have nothing to complain about." "well, if you don't quite understand me,i'll tell you this; to my mind it's better to break stones on the road than to let awoman get the mastery of even the end of one's little finger. that's all...," bazarov was about to utter his favorite word "romanticism," but checked himself andsaid "rubbish." "you won't believe me now, but i'll tellyou; you and i fell into feminine society and very nice we found it; but we throw offthat sort of society--it's like taking a
dip in cold water on a hot day. a man has no time for these trifles.a man must be untamed, says an old spanish proverb.now you, my wise friend," he added, addressing the peasant on the box. "i suppose you have a wife?"the peasant turned his dull bleary-eyed face towards the two young friends."a wife? yes. how could it be otherwise?" "do you beat her?""my wife? anything may happen.we don't beat her without a reason."
"that's fine. well, and does she beat you?"the peasant tugged at the reins. "what things you say, sir.you like a joke." he was obviously offended. "you hear, arkady nikolayevich.but we've been properly beaten--that's what comes of being educated people." arkady gave a forced laugh, while bazarovturned away and did not open his mouth again for the rest of the journey.those sixteen miles seemed to arkady quite like double the distance.
but at last on the slope of some risingground the little village where bazarov's parents lived came into sight.close to it, in a young birch copse, stood a small house with a thatched roof. two peasants with their hats on stood nearthe first hut swearing at each other. "you're a great swine," said one, "you'reworse than a little sucking pig." "and your wife's a witch," retorted theother. "by their unconstrained behavior," remarkedbazarov to arkady, "and by the playfulness of their phraseology, you can guess that myfather's peasants are not overmuch oppressed.
but there he is himself coming out on thesteps of the house. he must have heard the bells; it's him allright, i recognize his figure; ay! ay! only how grey he's grown, poor old chap!" > fathers and sons by ivan turgenevchapter 20 bazarov leaned out of the tarantass, whilearkady stretched out his head from behind his companion's back and saw standing onthe steps of the little house a tall thinnish man with ruffled hair and a sharp aquiline nose, dressed in an old militarycoat, not buttoned up.
he stood with his legs wide apart, smokinga long pipe and screwing up his eyes to keep the sun out of them. the horses stopped."arrived at last!" exclaimed bazarov's father, still continuing to smoke, thoughthe pipe was fairly jumping up and down between his fingers. "come, get out, get out, let me hug you."he began embracing his son..."enyusha, enyusha," resounded a woman's quaveringvoice. the door flew open and on the thresholdappeared a plump little old woman in a white cap and short colored jacket.
she cried, staggered, and would probablyhave fallen if bazarov had not supported her. her plump little hands were instantlytwined round his neck, her head was pressed to his breast, and there followed acomplete hush, only interrupted by the sound of her broken sobs. old bazarov breathed hard and screwed uphis eyes more than before. "there, that's enough, enough, arisha!leave off!" he said, exchanging a look with arkady, who remained standing motionless bythe tarantass, while even the peasant on the box turned his head away.
"that's quite unnecessary!please leave off." "ah, vassily ivanich," faltered the oldwoman, "for what ages, my dear one, my darling, enyushenka...," and withoutunclasping her hands, she drew back her wrinkled face, wet with tears, and overwhelmed with tenderness, and looked athim with blissful and somehow comic eyes and then again fell on his neck. "well, yes of course, that's all in thenature of things," remarked vassily ivanich."only we had better come indoors. here's a visitor arrived with evgeny.
you must excuse this," he added, turning toarkady and slightly scraping the ground with his foot: "you understand, a woman'sweakness, and well, a mother's heart." his own lips and eyebrows were quiveringand his chin shook--but obviously he was trying to master his feelings and to appearalmost indifferent. arkady bowed. "let's go in, mother, really," saidbazarov, and he led the enfeebled old woman into the house. he put her in a comfortable armchair, oncemore hurriedly embraced his father, and introduced arkady to him.
"heartily glad to make your acquaintance,"said vassily ivanich, "but you mustn't expect anything grand: we live very simplyhere, like military people. arina vlasyevna, pray calm yourself; whatfaintheartedness! our guest will think ill of you." "my good sir," said the old woman throughher tears, "i haven't the honor of knowing your name and your father's.""arkady nikolayevich," interposed vassily ivanich solemnly, in a low voice. "excuse a foolish old woman like me."she blew her nose, and bending her head from left to right, she carefully wiped oneeye after the other.
"you must excuse me. i really thought i should die, that ishould not live to see again my darling--" "well and here we have lived to see himagain, madam," put in vassily ivanovich. "tanyushka," he said, turning to a bare-legged little girl of thirteen in a bright red cotton dress, who was shyly peeping inat the door, "bring your mistress a glass of water--on a tray, do you hear?--and you, gentlemen," he added with a kind of old-fashioned playfulness--"allow me to invite you into the study of a retired veteran.""just once more let me embrace you, enyushka," groaned arina vlasyevna.
bazarov bent down to her."gracious, how handsome you've grown!" "well, i don't know about being handsome,"remarked vassily ivanovich. "but he's a man, as the saying goes--ommfay. and now i hope, arina vlasyevna, havingsatisfied your maternal heart, you will turn your thoughts to satisfying theappetites of our dear guests, because, as you know, even nightingales can't be fed onfairy tales." the old lady rose from her chair."this very minute, vassily ivanovich, the table shall be laid. i will myself run to the kitchen and orderthe samovar to be brought in; everything
will be ready, everything. why, for three whole years i have not seenhim, have not been able to give him food or drink--is that nothing?" "well, you see to things, little hostess,bustle about, don't put us to shame; and you, gentlemen, i beg you to follow me.here is timofeich come to pay his respects to you, evgeny. and the old dog, i dare say he too isdelighted. ay, aren't you delighted, old dog?be so good as to follow me." and vassily ivanovich went bustling ahead,shuffling and flapping with his down-at-
heel slippers.his whole house consisted of six tiny rooms. one of these--the one into which he led ourfriends--was called the study. a thick-legged table, littered with papersblackened by an ancient accumulation of dust as if they had been smoked, occupiedthe whole space between the two windows; on the walls hung turkish firearms, whips, a saber, two maps, some anatomical diagrams,a portrait of hufeland, a monogram woven out of hair in a blackened frame, and adiploma under glass; a leather sofa, torn and worn hollow in places, stood between
two huge cupboards of karelian birchwood;on the shelves, books, little boxes, stuffed birds, jars and phials were crowdedtogether in confusion; in one corner lay a broken electric battery. "i warned you, my dear guest," beganvassily ivanovich, "that we live, so to speak, bivouacking...""now stop that, what are you apologizing for?" bazarov interrupted."kirsanov knows very well that we're not croesuses and that you don't live in apalace. where are we going to put him, that's thequestion?"
"to be sure, evgeny, there's an excellentroom in the little wing; he will be very comfortable there." "so you've had a wing built on?""of course, where the bathhouse is," put in timofeich."that is next to the bathroom," vassily ivanovich added hurriedly. "it's summer now...i will run over there at once and arrange things; and you, timofeich, bring in theirluggage meanwhile. of course i hand over my study to you,evgeny. suum cuique.""there you have him!
a most comical old chap and very good-natured," remarked bazarov, as soon as vassily ivanovich had gone."just as queer a fish as yours, only in a different way. he chatters too much.""and your mother seems a wonderful woman," remarked arkady."yes, there's no humbug about her. you just see what a dinner she'll give us." "they weren't expecting you today, sir,they've not brought any beef," observed timofeich, who was just dragging inbazarov's trunk. "we shall manage all right even withoutbeef; you can't squeeze water from a stone.
poverty, they say, is no crime.""how many serfs has your father?" asked arkady suddenly. "the property is not his, but mother's;there are fifteen serfs, if i remember." "twenty-two in all," added timofeich in adissatisfied tone. the shuffling of slippers was heard andvassily ivanovich reappeared. "in a few minutes your room will be readyto receive you," he exclaimed triumphantly. "arkady--nikolaich? i think that's how i should call you. and here is your servant," he added,indicating a boy with close-cropped hair,
who had come in with him, wearing a longblue caftan with holes in the elbows and a pair of boots which did not belong to him. "his name is fedka, i repeat again, thoughmy son has forbidden it, you must not expect anything grand.but this fellow knows how to fill a pipe. you smoke, of course?" "i prefer to smoke cigars," answeredarkady. "and you're quite right there. i like cigars myself, but in these remoteparts it is extremely difficult to get them.""enough crying poverty," interrupted
bazarov. "you had better sit down on the sofa hereand let us have a look at you." vassily ivanovich laughed and sat down. his face was very much like his son's, onlyhis brow was lower and narrower, his mouth rather wider, and he never stopped makingrestless movements, shrugged his shoulders as though his coat cut him under the armpits, blinked, cleared his throat andgesticulated with his fingers, whereas his son's most striking characteristic was thenonchalant immobility of his manner. "crying poverty," repeated vassilyivanovich.
"you must suppose, evgeny, that i want ourguest, so to speak, to take pity on us, by making out that we live in such awilderness. on the contrary i maintain that for athinking man there is no such thing as a wilderness. at least i try, as far as possible, not togrow rusty, so to speak, not to fall behind the times." vassily ivanovich drew out of his pocket anew yellow silk handkerchief, which he had found time to snatch up when he ran over toarkady's room, and flourishing it in the air, he went on: "i am not speaking now of
the fact that i, for instance, at the costof quite considerable sacrifices to myself, have put my peasants on the rent system andgiven up my land to them in return for half the proceeds. i considered it my duty; common sense alonedemands that it should be done, though other landowners don't even think aboutdoing it. but i speak now of the sciences, ofeducation." "yes, i see you have here the friend ofhealth for 1855," remarked bazarov. "that was sent me by an old comrade as afriendly gesture," vassily ivanovich hastily announced; "but we have, forinstance, some idea even of phrenology," he
added, addressing himself principally to arkady, and pointing out a small plasterhead on the cupboard, divided into numbered squares; "even sch"nlein is not unknown tous--and rademacher." "do people still believe in rademacher inthis province?" inquired bazarov. vassily ivanovich cleared his throat. "in this province...of course gentlemen,you know better; how could we keep pace with you?you are here to take our places. even in my time, there was a so-calledhumoralist hoffman, and a certain brown with his vitalism--they seemed veryridiculous to us, but they, too, had great
reputations at one time. someone new has taken rademacher's placewith you; you bow down to him, but in another twenty years it will probably behis turn to be laughed at." "for your consolation i can tell you," saidbazarov, "that we nowadays laugh at medicine altogether and bow down tonobody." "how do you mean? surely you want to be a doctor.""yes, but the one doesn't prevent the other." vassily ivanovich poked his middle fingerinto his pipe, where a little smoldering
ash was left."well, perhaps, perhaps--i'm not going to dispute. what am i?a retired army doctor, valla too; and now farming has fallen to my lot.i served in your grandfather's brigade," he addressed himself to arkady again. "yes, yes, i have seen many sights in mytime. and i mixed with every kind of society. i myself, the man you see before you, havefelt the pulse of prince wittgenstein and of zhukovsky!
they were in the southern army, thefourteenth, you understand" (and here vassily ivanovich pursed his lipssignificantly). "i knew them all inside out. well, well, but my work was only on oneside; stick to your lancet and be content! your grandfather was a very honorable manand a real soldier." "confess, he was a regular blockhead,"remarked bazarov lazily. "ah, evgeny, how can you use such anexpression? do consider...of course general kirsanovwas not one of those..." "well, drop him," interrupted bazarov.
"as i was driving along i was pleased tosee your birch plantation; it has sprung up admirably."vassily ivanovich brightened. "and you must see the little garden i'vegot now. i planted every tree myself.i have fruit, raspberries and all kinds of medicinal herbs. however much you young gentlemen may know,old paracelsus spoke the sacred truth; in herbis, verbis et lapidibus...i've retiredfrom practice, as you know, but at least twice a week something happens to bring meback to my old work. they come for advice--i can't drive themaway--and sometimes the poor people need
help. indeed there are no doctors here at all.one of the neighbors here, a retired major, just imagine it, he doctors the people too.i ask the question: 'has he studied medicine?' they answer: 'no, he hasn't studied, hedoes it more from philanthropy'...ha! ha! from philanthropy!what do you think of that? ha! ha!" "fedka! fill me a pipe!" said bazarovsternly. "and there's another doctor here who hadjust visited a patient," continued vassily
ivanovich in a kind of desperation, "butthe patient had already gone ad patres; the servant wouldn't let the doctor in, andtells him: 'you're no longer needed.' he never expected this, got confused andasked: 'well, did your master hiccup before he died?' 'yes.''did he hiccup much?' 'yes.''ah, well, that's all right,' and off he went again. ha! ha! ha!"the old man laughed alone. arkady managed to show a smile on his face.bazarov merely stretched himself.
the conversation continued in this way forabout an hour. arkady found time to go to his room whichturned out to be the anteroom to the bathroom, but it was very cosy and clean. at last tanyushka came in and announcedthat dinner was ready. vassily ivanovich was the first to get up."come, gentlemen, you must pardon me generously if i have bored you. maybe my good wife will give you bettersatisfaction." the dinner, though hastily prepared, wasvery good and even abundant; only the wine was not quite up to the mark; it wassherry, almost black, bought by timofeich
in the town from a well-known merchant, and it had a flavor of copper or resin; theflies also were a nuisance. on ordinary days a serf boy used to keepdriving them away with a big green branch, but on this occasion vassily ivanovich hadsent him away for fear of adverse criticism from the younger generation. arina vlasyevna had changed her dress, andwas wearing a high cap with silk ribbons and a pale blue flowered shawl. she started crying again as soon as shecaught sight of her enyusha, but her husband did not need to admonish her; sheherself made haste to dry her tears in
order not to spoil her shawl. only the young men ate; the host andhostess had both dined long ago. fedka waited at table, obviously encumberedby his unfamiliar boots; he was helped by a woman with a masculine cast of face and oneeye, called anfisushka; she fulfilled the duties of housekeeper, poultry woman andlaundress. vassily ivanovich walked up and downthroughout the dinner, and with a perfectly contented and even blissful face talkedabout the grave anxieties he had felt about napoleon's policy and the complications ofthe italian question. arina vlasyevna took no notice of arkadyand did not press him to eat; leaning her
round face on her little fist, her fullcherry-colored lips and the little moles on her cheeks and over her eyebrows adding to her extremely kind, good-naturedexpression, she did not take her eyes off her son and constantly sighed; she wasdying to know for how long he would stay, but she was afraid to ask him. "what if he stays for two days?" shethought, and her heart sank. after the roast vassily ivanovichdisappeared for a moment and returned with an opened half-bottle of champagne. "here," he exclaimed, "though we do live inthe wilds, we have something to make merry
with on festive occasions!" he poured out three full glasses and alittle wineglass, proposed the health of "our invaluable guests," and at once tossedoff his glass in military fashion and made arina vlasyevna drink her wineglass to thelast drop. when the time came for the sweet preserves,arkady, who could not bear anything sweet, thought it his duty, however, to taste fourdifferent kinds which had been freshly made--all the more since bazarov flatly refused them and began at once to smoke acigar. afterwards tea was served with cream,butter and rolls; then vassily ivanovich
took them all out into the garden to admirethe beauty of the evening. as they passed a garden seat he whisperedto arkady, "this is the spot where i love to meditate as i watch the sunset; it suitsa recluse like me. and there, a little farther off, i haveplanted some of the trees beloved by horace.""what trees?" asked bazarov, overhearing, "oh...acacias." bazarov began to yawn."i suppose it is time our travelers were in the embrace of morpheus," observed vassilyivanovich. "in other words, it's time for bed,"bazarov interposed.
"that's a correct judgment; it certainly ishigh time!" saying good night to his mother, he kissedher on the forehead while she embraced him and secretly behind his back she gave himher blessing three times. vassily ivanovich showed arkady to his roomand wished him "as refreshing repose as i also enjoyed at your happy years." in fact arkady slept extremely well in hisbathhouse; it smelt of mint, and two crickets behind the stove rivaled eachother in their prolonged drowsy chirping. vassily ivanovich went from arkady's roomto his own study and, settling down on the sofa at his son's feet, was looking forwardto having a chat with him; but bazarov sent
him away at once, saying he felt sleepy,but he did not fall asleep till morning. with wide-open eyes he stared angrily intothe darkness; memories of childhood had no power over him, and besides he had not yetbeen able to rid himself of the impression of his recent bitter experiences. arina vlasyevna first prayed to her heart'scontent, then she had a long, long conversation with anfisushka, who stoodrooted to the spot in front of her mistress, and fixing her solitary eye upon her, communicated in a mysterious whisperall her observations and conjectures about evgeny vassilevich.
the old lady's head was giddy withhappiness, wine and tobacco smoke; her husband tried to talk to her--but with awave of the hand he gave it up. arina vlasyevna was a genuine russian ladyof olden times; she ought to have lived two centuries before, in the ancient moscowdays. she was very devout and emotional; shebelieved in fortunetelling, charms, dreams and omens of every conceivable kind; shebelieved in the prophecies of crazy people, in house spirits, in wood spirits, in unlucky meetings, in the evil eye, inpopular remedies; she ate specially prepared salt on holy thursday and believedthat the end of the world was close at
hand; she believed that if on easter sunday the candles did not go out at vespers, thenthere would be a good crop of buckwheat, and that a mushroom will not grow after ahuman eye has seen it; she believed that the devil likes to be where there is water, and that every jew has a blood-stained spoton his breast; she was afraid of mice, of snakes, of frogs, of sparrows, of leeches,of thunder, of cold water, of draughts, of horses, of goats, of red-haired people and of black cats; she regarded crickets anddogs as unclean animals; she never ate veal, pigeons, crayfish, cheese, asparagus,jerusalem artichokes, hares, or watermelons
because a cut watermelon suggested the head of john the baptist; she could not speak ofoysters without a shudder; she enjoyed eating--but strictly observed fasts; sheslept ten hours out of the twenty-four--and never went to bed at all if vassily ivanovich had so much as a headache; shehad never read a single book except alexis or the cottage in the forest; she wrote oneor at most two letters in a year, but she was an expert housewife, knew all about preserving and jam making, though shetouched nothing with her own hands and was usually reluctant to move from her place.arina vlasyevna was very kindhearted and in
her own way far from stupid. she knew that the world is divided intomasters whose duty it is to command, and simple people whose duty it is to serve--and so she felt no disgust for servile behavior or bowing to the ground; but she treated affectionately and gently those insubjection to her, never let a single beggar go away empty-handed, and neverspoke ill of anyone, though she was fond of gossip. in her youth she had been very pretty, hadplayed the clavichord and spoken a little french; but in the course of many years ofwandering with her husband, whom she had
married against her will, she had grownstout and forgotten both music and french. her son she loved and feared unutterably;she had handed over the management of her little estate to vassily ivanovich--and sheno longer took any part in it; she would groan, wave her handkerchief and raise her eyebrows higher and higher in horrordirectly her old husband began to discuss impending land reforms and his own plans. she was apprehensive, always expecting somegreat calamity, and would weep at once whenever she remembered anythingsad...nowadays such women have almost ceased to exist.
god knows whether this should be a causefor rejoicing! fathers and sons by ivan turgenevchapter 21 on getting up, arkady opened the window,and the first object which met his eyes was vassily ivanovich. in a turkish dressing gown tied round thewaist with a pocket handkerchief, the old man was zealously digging his kitchengarden. he noticed his young visitor and leaning onhis spade he called out, "good health to you!how did you sleep?" "splendidly," answered arkady.
"and here i am, as you see, like somecincinnatus, preparing a bed for late turnips. the time has come now--and thank god forit!--when everyone should secure his sustenance by the work of his own hands: itis useless to rely on others; one must labor oneself. so it turns out that jean jacques rousseauis right. half an hour ago, my dear young sir, youcould have seen me in an entirely different position. one peasant woman, who complained oflooseness--that's how they express it, but
in our language, dysentery--i--how shall iexpress it? i injected her with opium; and for anotheri extracted a tooth. i offered her an anesthetic, but sherefused. i do all that gratis-- anamatyer. however, i'm used to it; you see i'm aplebeian, homo nous--not one of the old stock, not like my wife...but wouldn't youlike to come over here in the shade and breathe the morning freshness before havingtea?" arkady went out to him. "welcome once more!" said vassilyivanovich, raising his hand in a military
salute to the greasy skullcap which coveredhis head. "you, i know, are accustomed to luxury andpleasures, but even the great ones of this world do not disdain to spend a brief timeunder a cottage roof." "gracious heavens," protested arkady, "asif i were a great one of this world! and i'm not accustomed to luxury either.""pardon me, pardon me," replied vassily ivanovich with an amiable grimace. "though i am a back number now, i also haveknocked about the world--i know a bird by its flight.i am something of a psychologist in my way, and a physiognomist.
if i had not, i venture to say, beengranted that gift, i should have come to grief long ago; a little man like me wouldhave been blotted out. i must tell you without flattery, thefriendship i observe between you and my son sincerely delights me. i have just seen him; he got up very earlyas he habitually does--you probably know that--and ran off for a ramble in theneighborhood. permit me to be so inquisitive--have youknown my evgeny long?" "since last winter.""indeed. and permit me to question you further--butwhy shouldn't we sit down?
permit me as a father to ask you frankly:what is your opinion of my evgeny?" "your son is one of the most remarkable meni have ever met," answered arkady emphatically. vassily ivanovich's eyes suddenly openedwide, and a slight flush suffused his cheeks.the spade dropped from his hand. "and so you expect...," he began. "i'm convinced," interrupted arkady, "thatyour son has a great future before him, that he will do honor to your name.i've felt sure of that ever since i met him."
"how--how did it happen?" articulatedvassily ivanovich with some effort. an enthusiastic smile parted his broad lipsand would not leave them. "would you like me to tell you how we met?" "yes...and all about it--" arkady began his story and spoke of bazarovwith even greater warmth, even greater enthusiasm than he had done on that eveningwhen he danced a mazurka with madame odintsov. vassily ivanovich listened and listened,blew his nose, rolled his handkerchief up into a ball with both hands, cleared histhroat, ruffled up his hair--and at length
could contain himself no longer; he bent down to arkady and kissed him on theshoulder. "you have made me perfectly happy," hesaid, without ceasing to smile. "i ought to tell you, i...idolize my son; iwon't even speak of my old wife--naturally, a mother--but i dare not show my feelingsin front of him, because he disapproves of that. he is opposed to every demonstration ofemotion; many people even find fault with him for such strength of character, andtake it for a sign of pride or lack of feeling; but people like him ought not to
be judged by any ordinary standards, oughtthey? look at this, for example; others in hisplace would have been a constant drag on their parents; but he--would you believeit?--from the day he was born he has never taken a farthing more than he could help,that's god's truth." "he is a disinterested, honest man,"remarked arkady. "exactly so, disinterested. and i not only idolize him, arkadynikolaich, i am proud of him, and the height of my only ambition is that some daythere will be the following words in his biography: 'the son of an ordinary army
doctor, who was able, however, to recognizehis talent early and spared no pains for his education...'"the old man's voice broke. arkady pressed his hand. "what do you think?" inquired vassilyivanovich after a short silence, "surely he will not attain in the sphere of medicinethe celebrity which you prophesy for him?" "of course, not in medicine, though eventhere he will be one of the leading scientific men.""in what then, arkady nikolaich?" "it would be hard to say now, but he willbe famous." "he will be famous," repeated the old man,and he relapsed into thought.
"arina vlasyevna sent me to call you in totea," announced anfisushka, passing by with a huge dish of ripe raspberries.vassily ivanovich started. "and will the cream be cooled for theraspberries?" "yes.""be sure it is cold! don't stand on ceremony. arkady nikolaich--take some more.how is it evgeny doesn't come back?" "i'm here," called bazarov's voice frominside arkady's room. vassily ivanovich turned round quickly. "aha, you wanted to pay a visit to yourfriend; but you were too late, amice, and
we have already had a long conversation.now we must go in to tea; mother has sent for us. by the way, i want to have a talk withyou." "what about?""there's a peasant here; he's suffering from icterus..." "you mean jaundice?""yes, a chronic and very obstinate case of icterus. i have prescribed him centaury and st.john's wort, told him to eat carrots, given him soda; but all those are palliativemeasures; we need some more radical
treatment. although you laugh at medicine, i'm sureyou can give me some practical advice. but we will talk about that later.now let us go and drink tea." vassily ivanovich jumped up briskly fromthe garden seat and hummed the air from robert le diable."the law, the law we set ourselves, to live, to live, for pleasure." "astonishing vitality," observed bazarov,moving away from the window. midday arrived.the sun was burning from under a thin veil of unbroken whitish clouds.
all was still; only the cocks in thevillage broke the silence by their vigorous crowing, which produced in everyone whoheard it a strange sense of drowsiness and tedium; and from somewhere high up in a treetop sounded the plaintive andpersistent chirp of a young hawk. arkady and bazarov lay in the shade of asmall haystack, and put under themselves two armfuls of rustling dry but still greenand fragrant grass. "that poplar tree," began bazarov, "remindsme of my childhood; it grows on the edge of the pit where the brick shed used to be,and in those days i firmly believed that the poplar and the pit possessed the
peculiar power of a talisman; i never feltdull when i was near them. i did not understand then that i was notdull just because i was a child. well, now i'm grown up, the talisman nolonger works." "how long did you live here altogether?"asked arkady. "two years on end; after that we traveledabout. we led a roving life, chiefly wanderingfrom town to town." "and has this house been standing long?" "yes. my grandfather built it, my mother'sfather." "who was he, your grandfather?""the devil knows--some kind of second-
major. he served under suvorov and always toldstories about marching across the alps-- inventions probably.""you have a portrait of suvorov hanging in the drawing room. i like such little houses as yours, old-fashioned and warm; and they always have a special kind of scent about them.""a smell of lamp oil and clover," remarked bazarov, yawning. "and the flies in these dear littlehouses...fugh!" "tell me," began arkady after a shortpause, "were they strict with you as a
child?" "you see what my parents are like.they're not a severe sort." "are you fond of them, evgeny?""i am, arkady." "how they adore you!" bazarov was silent for a while."do you know what i'm thinking about?" he said at last, clasping his hands behind hishead. "no. what is it?" "i'm thinking how happy life is for myparents! my father at the age of sixty can fussaround, chat about 'palliative measures,'
heal people; he plays the magnanimousmaster with the peasants--has a gay time in fact; and my mother is happy too; her day is so crammed with all sorts of jobs, withsighs and groans, that she hasn't a moment to think about herself; while i....""while you?" "while i think; here i lie under ahaystack...the tiny narrow space i occupy is so minutely small in comparison with therest of space where i am not and which has nothing to do with me; and the portion of time in which it is my lot to live is soinsignificant beside the eternity where i have not been and will not be...and in thisatom, in this mathematical point, the blood
circulates, the brain works and wantssomething...how disgusting! how petty!" "allow me to point out that what you sayapplies generally to everyone." "you're right," interrupted bazarov. "i wanted to say that they, my parents imean, are occupied and don't worry about their own nothingness; it doesn't sickenthem...while i...i feel nothing but boredom and anger." "anger?why anger?" "why? how can you ask why?have you forgotten?" "i remember everything, but still i can'tagree that you have any right to be angry.
you're unhappy, i realize, but..." "ugh! i can see, arkady nikolaich, that youregard love like all modern young men; cluck, cluck, cluck, you call to the hen,and the moment the hen comes near, off you run! i'm not like that.but enough of it all. it's a shame to talk about what can't behelped." he turned over on his side. "ah, there goes a brave ant dragging alonga half-dead fly. take her away, brother, take her!
don't pay any attention to her resistance;take full advantage of your animal privilege to be without pity--not like usself-destructive creatures!" "what are you talking about, evgeny? when did you destroy yourself?"bazarov raised his head. "that's the only thing i'm proud of.i have not crushed myself, so a little woman can't crush me. amen!it's all over. you won't hear another word from me aboutit." both friends lay for a time in silence.
"yes," began bazarov, "man is a strangeanimal. when one gets a side view from a distanceof the dumb life our 'fathers' lead here, one thinks: what could be better? you eat and drink and know you are actingin the most righteous and sensible way. if not, you're devoured by the tedium ofit. one wants to have dealings with people evenif it's only to abuse them." "one ought to arrange one's life so thatevery moment of it becomes significant," remarked arkady thoughtfully. "i dare say.
the significant may be deceptive but sweet,though it's even quite possible to put up with the insignificant...but pettysquabbles, petty squabbles...that's a misery." "petty squabbles don't exist for the manwho refuses to recognize them as such." "hm...what you have said is a commonplaceturned upside-down." "what? what do you mean by that phrase?" "i'll explain; to say for instance thateducation is beneficial, that's a commonplace, but to say that education isharmful is a commonplace turned upside-
down. it sounds more stylish, but fundamentallyit's one and the same thing!" "but where is the truth--on which side?""where? i answer you like an echo; where?" "you're in a melancholy mood today,evgeny." "really? the sun must have melted my brain and iought not to have eaten so many raspberries either.""in that case it wouldn't be a bad plan to doze a bit," remarked arkady.
"certainly.only don't look at me; everyone has a stupid face when he's asleep.""but isn't it all the same to you what people think of you?" "i don't quite know how to answer you.a real man ought not to worry about such things; a real man is not meant to bethought about, but is someone who must be either obeyed or hated." "it's odd!i don't hate anyone," observed arkady after a pause."and i hate so many. you're a tenderhearted listless creature;how could you hate anyone...?
you're timid, you haven't much self-reliance." "and you," interrupted arkady, "do you relyon yourself? have you a high opinion of yourself?"bazarov paused. "when i meet a man who can hold his ownbeside me," he said with slow deliberation, "then i'll change my opinion of myself.hatred! you said, for instance, today as we passedthe cottage of our bailiff philip--the one that's so neat and clean--well, you said,russia will achieve perfection when the poorest peasant has a house like that, and every one of us ought to help to bring itabout...
and i felt such a hatred for this poorestpeasant, this philip or sidor, for whom i have to be ready to sacrifice my skin andwho won't even thank me for it--and why should he thank me? well, suppose he lives in a clean house,while weeds grow out of me--so, what next?" "that's enough, evgeny...listening to youtoday one would be driven to agree with those who reproach us for absence ofprinciples." "you talk like your uncle. principles don't exist in general--youhaven't yet managed to understand even that much!--but there are sensations.everything depends on them."
"how is that?" "well, take me for instance; i adopt anegative attitude by virtue of my sensations; i like to deny, my brain ismade like that--and there's nothing more to it. why does chemistry appeal to me?why do you like apples?--also by virtue of our sensations.it's all the same thing. people will never penetrate deeper thanthat. not everyone would tell you so, and anothertime i shouldn't tell you so myself." "what, and is honesty also--a sensation?"
"i should think so.""evgeny...!" began arkady in a dejected tone."well? what? that's not to your taste?" broke inbazarov. "no, brother.if you've made up your mind to mow down everything--don't spare your own legs...! but we've philosophized enough.'nature heaps up the silence of sleep,' said pushkin.""he never said anything of the kind," retorted arkady.
"well, if he didn't, he might have andought to have said it as a poet. by the way, he must have served in thearmy." "pushkin was never in the army!" "why, on every page of his one reads, toarms! to arms! for russia's honor!" "what legends you invent!really, it's positive slander." "slander? there's a weighty matter.he's found a solemn word to frighten me with. whatever slander you may utter against aman, you may be sure he deserves twenty
times worse than that in reality.""we had better go to sleep," said arkady with vexation. "with the greatest of pleasure," answeredbazarov. but neither of them slept.some kind of almost hostile feeling had taken hold of both young men. five minutes later, they opened their eyesand glanced at each other in silence. "look," said arkady suddenly, "a dry mapleleaf has broken off and is falling to the ground; its movements are exactly like abutterfly's flight. isn't it strange?
such a gloomy dead thing so like the mostcare-free and lively one." "oh, my friend arkady nikolaich," exclaimedbazarov, "one thing i implore of you; no beautiful talk." "i talk as i best know how to...yes, reallythis is sheer despotism. a thought came into my head; why shouldn'ti express it?" "all right, and why shouldn't i express mythoughts? i think that sort of beautiful talk ispositively indecent." "and what is decent? abuse?""ah, so i see clearly you intend to follow
in your uncle's footsteps.how pleased that idiot would be if he could hear you now!" "what did you call pavel petrovich?""i called him, as he deserves to be called, an idiot.""really, this is unbearable," cried arkady. "aha! family feeling spoke out," remarkedbazarov coolly. "i've noticed how obstinately it clings topeople. a man is ready to give up everything andbreak with every prejudice; but to admit, for instance, that his brother who stealsother people's handkerchiefs is a thief-- that's beyond his power.
and as a matter of fact--to think--mybrother, mine--and no genius--that's more than one can swallow!" "a simple sense of justice spoke in me andno family feeling at all," retorted arkady vehemently. "but since you don't understand such afeeling, as it's not among your sensations, you're in no position to judge it!""in other words, arkady kirsanov is too exalted for my understanding. i bow down to him and say no more.""that's enough, evgeny; we shall end by quarreling."
"ah, arkady, do me a favor, let's quarrelproperly for once, to the bitter end, to the point of destruction.""but then perhaps we should end by..." "by fighting?" broke in bazarov. "well?here in the hay, in such idyllic surroundings, far from the world and fromhuman eyes, it wouldn't matter. but you'd be no match for me. i'd have you by the throat at once..."barazov stretched out his long tough fingers. arkady turned round and prepared, as ifjoking, to resist...but his friend's face
struck him as so sinister--he saw such agrim threat in the crooked smile which twisted his lips, in his glaring eyes, thathe felt instinctively taken aback... "so that is where you have got to," saidthe voice of vassily ivanovich at this moment, and the old army doctor appearedbefore the young men dressed in a homemade linen jacket, with a straw hat, alsohomemade, on his head. "i've been looking for you everywhere...but you've picked out a splendid place and you're perfectly employed. lying on the earth and gazing up to heaven--do you know there's a special significance in that?"
"i gaze up to heaven only when i want tosneeze," growled bazarov, and turning to arkady, he added in an undertone: "a pityhe interrupted us." "well, that's enough," whispered arkady,and secretly squeezed his friend's hand. but no friendship can withstand such shocksfor long. "i look at you, my youthful friends," saidvassily ivanovich meanwhile, shaking his head and leaning his folded arms on askillfully bent stick which he himself had carved with a turk's figure for a knob. "i look, and i can't refrain fromadmiration. you have so much strength, such youthfulbloom, abilities and talents!
truly... a castor and pollux.""get along with you--shooting off into mythology!" said bazarov."you can see he was a latin scholar in his day. why, i seem to remember, you won the silvermedal for latin composition, didn't you?" "the dioscuri, the dioscuri!"; repeatedvassily ivanovich. "come, stop that, father; don't gosentimental." "just once in an age, surely it'spermissible," murmured the old man. "anyhow, i have not been searching for you,gentlemen, in order to pay you compliments,
but in order to tell you, in the firstplace, that we shall soon be dining; and secondly, i wanted to warn you, evgeny...you are a sensible man, you knowthe world and you know what women are, and therefore you will excuse...your motherwanted a service held for you in thanksgiving, for your arrival. don't imagine that i'm asking you to attendthat service--it's already over; but father alexei...""the parson?" "well, yes, the priest; he is--to dine withus...i did not expect this and was not even in favor of it--but somehow it turned outlike that--he misunderstood me--and, well,
arina vlasyevna--besides, he's a worthy andreasonable man." "i suppose he won't eat my share atdinner?" inquired bazarov. vassily ivanovich laughed. "the things you say!""well, i ask nothing more. i'm ready to sit down at table withanyone." vassily ivanovich set his hat straight. "i was sure in advance," he said, "that youwere above all such prejudices. here am i, an old man of sixty-two, andeven i have none." (vassily ivanovich dared not confess thathe had himself wanted the thanksgiving
service--he was no less devout than hiswife.) "and father alexei very much wanted to makeyour acquaintance. you will like him, you'll see. he doesn't mind playing cards even, and hesometimes--but this is between ourselves-- goes so far as to smoke a pipe.""fancy that. we'll have a round of whist after dinnerand i'll beat him." "ha! ha! ha! we shall see; that's an openquestion." "well, won't it remind you of old times?"said bazarov with a peculiar emphasis. vassily ivanovich's bronzed cheeks blushedwith confusion.
"for shame, evgeny,...let bygones bebygones. well, i'm ready to confess before thisgentleman, i had that very passion in my youth--and how i paid for it too...! but how hot it is.may i sit down with you? i hope i shan't be in your way.""not in the least," answered arkady. vassily ivanovich lowered himself, sighing,into the hay. "your present quarters, my dear sirs," hebegan, "remind me of my military bivouacking existence, the halts of thefield hospital somewhere like this under a haystack--and even for that we thankedgod."
he sighed."what a lot i've experienced in my time. for instance, if you allow me, i will tellyou a curious episode about the plague in bessarabia.""for which you won the vladimir cross?" interposed bazarov. "we know--we know...by the way, why aren'tyou wearing it?" "why, i told you that i have noprejudices," muttered vassily ivanovich (only the evening before he had had the redribbon unpicked from his coat) and he started to tell his story about the plague. "why, he has fallen asleep," he whisperedsuddenly to arkady, pointing to evgeny, and
winked good-naturedly."evgeny, get up!" he added loudly. "let's go in to dinner." father alexei, a handsome stout man withthick, carefully combed hair, with an embroidered belt round his mauve silkcassock, appeared to be a very skillful and adaptable person. he made haste to be the first to offer hishand to arkady and bazarov, as though realizing in advance that they did not wanthis blessing, and in general he behaved without constraint. he neither betrayed his own opinions norprovoked the other members of the company;
he made an appropriate joke about seminarylatin and stood up in defense of his bishop; he drank two glasses of wine and refused a third; he accepted a cigar fromarkady, but did not smoke it on the spot, saying he would take it home with him. only he had a somewhat unpleasant habit ofraising his hand from time to time, slowly and carefully, to catch the flies on hisface, and sometimes managing to squash them. he took his seat at the green card tablewith a measured expression of satisfaction, and ended by winning from bazarov two and ahalf rubles in notes (they had no idea of
how to reckon in silver in arinavlasyevna's house). she sat, as before, close to her son--shedid not play cards--and as before she leaned her cheek on her little clenchedhand; she got up only to order some fresh sweetmeat to be served. she was afraid to caress bazarov, and hegave her no encouragement, for he did nothing to invite her caresses; andbesides, vassily ivanovich had advised her not to "disturb" him too much. "young men are not fond of that sort ofthing," he explained to her. (there is no need to say what dinner waslike that day; timofeich in person had
galloped off at dawn to procure somespecial circassian beef; the bailiff had gone off in another direction for turbot, perch and crayfish; for mushrooms alone thepeasant woman had been paid forty-two kopeks in copper); but arina vlasyevna'seyes, looking steadfastly at bazarov, expressed not devotion and tenderness alone, for sorrow was visible in them also,mingled with curiosity and fear, and with a trace of humble reproachfulness. bazarov, however, was in no state of mindto analyze the exact expression of his mother's eyes; he seldom turned to her andthen only with some short question.
once he asked her for her hand "for luck";she quietly placed her soft little hand on his rough broad palm."well," she asked after waiting for a time, "did it help?" "worse luck than before," he answered witha careless smile. "he plays too rashly," pronounced fatheralexei, as it were compassionately, and stroked his handsome beard. "that was napoleon's principle, goodfather, napoleon's," interposed vassily ivanovich, leading with an ace. "but it brought him to the isle of st.helena," observed father alexei, and
trumped his ace."wouldn't you like some black-currant tea, enyushka?" asked arina vlasyevna. bazarov merely shrugged his shoulders."no!" he said to arkady the following day, "i go away from here tomorrow.i'm bored; i want to work but i can't here. i will come again to your place; i left allmy apparatus there. in your house at least one can shut oneselfup, but here my father keeps on repeating to me, 'my study is at your disposal--nobody shall interfere with you,' and all the time he himself is hardly two stepsaway. and i'm ashamed somehow to shut myself awayfrom him.
it's the same thing with my mother. i hear how she sighs on the other side ofthe wall, and then if one goes in to see her--one has nothing to say.""she will be most upset," said arkady, "and so will he." "i shall come back to them.""when?" "well, when i'm on my way to petersburg.""i feel particularly sorry for your mother." "how's that?has she won your heart with her raspberries?"arkady lowered his eyes.
"you don't understand your mother, evgeny. she's not only a very good woman, she'sreally very wise. this morning she talked to me for half anhour, and so interestingly, so much to the point." "i suppose she was expatiating about me thewhole time." "we didn't talk about you only.""maybe as an outsider you see more. if a woman can keep up a conversation forhalf an hour, it's already a good sign. but i'm going away, all the same.""it won't be easy for you to break the news to them.
they are making plans for us a fortnightahead." "no; it won't be easy. some devil drove me to tease my fathertoday; he had one of his rent-paying peasants flogged the other day and quiterightly too--yes, yes, don't look at me in such horror--he did right because that peasant is a frightful thief and drunkard;only my father had no idea that i, as they say, became aware of the facts.he was very much embarrassed, and now i shall have to upset him as well... never mind!he'll get over it."
bazarov said, "never mind," but the wholeday passed before he could bring himself to tell vassily ivanovich about his decision. at last when he was just saying good nightto him in the study, he remarked with a strained yawn: "oh yes...i almost forgot totell you--will you send to fedot's for our horses tomorrow?" vassily ivanovich was dumbfounded."is mr. kirsanov leaving us then?" "yes, and i'm going with him."vassily ivanovich almost reeled over. "you are going away?" "yes...i must.make the arrangements about the horses,
please.""very good...to the posting station...very good--only--only--why is it?" "i must go to stay with him for a shorttime. afterwards i will come back here again.""ah! for a short time...very good." vassily ivanovich took out his handkerchiefand as he blew his nose bent himself almost double to the ground."all right, it will--all be done. i had thought you were going to stay withus...a little longer. three days...after three years...that'srather little, rather little, evgeny." "but i tell you i'm coming back soon.
i have to go.""you have to...well! duty comes before everything else...so you want the horses sent? all right. of course anna and i never expected this.she has just managed to get some flowers from a neighbor; she wanted to decorateyour room." (vassily ivanovich did not even mentionthat every morning the moment it was light he consulted with timofeich, and standingwith his bare feet in slippers, pulling out with trembling fingers one crumpled ruble note after another, entrusted him withvarious purchases, particularly of good
things to eat, and of red wine, which, asfar as he could observe, the young men liked extremely.) "liberty--is the main thing--that is myprinciple...one has no right to interfere...no..."he suddenly fell silent and made for the door. "we shall soon see each other again,father, really." but vassily ivanovich did not turn round,he only waved his hand and went out. when he got back to the bedroom, he foundhis wife in bed and began to say his prayers in a whisper in order not to wakeher up.
she woke, however. "is that you, vassily ivanovich?" sheasked. "yes, little mother.""have you come from enyusha? do you know, i'm afraid he may not becomfortable on that sofa. i told anfisushka to put out for him yourtraveling mattress and the new pillows; i should have given him our feather bed, buti seem to remember he doesn't like sleeping soft." "never mind, little mother, don't youworry. he's all right.lord have mercy on us sinners," he
continued his prayer in a low voice. vassily ivanovich felt sorry for his oldwife; he did not wish to tell her overnight what sorrow there was in store for her.bazarov and arkady left on the following from early morning the house was filledwith gloom; anfisushka let the dishes slip out of her hand; even fedka becamebewildered and at length took off his boots. vassily ivanovich fussed more than ever;obviously he was trying to make the best of it, talked loudly and stamped his feet, buthis face looked haggard and he continually avoided looking his son in the eyes.
arina vlasyevna wept quietly; she wouldhave broken down and lost all control of herself if her husband had not spent twcwhole hours exhorting her early that morning. when bazarov, after repeated promises tocome back within a month at the latest, tore himself at last from the embracesdetaining him, and took his seat in the tarantass, when the horses started, the bell rang and the wheels were moving--andwhen it was no longer any use gazing after them, when the dust had settled down, andtimofeich, all bent and tottering as he walked, had crept back to his little room;
when the old people were left alone in thehouse, which also seemed to have suddenly shrunk and grown decrepit--vassilyivanovich, who a few moments before had been heartily waving his handkerchief on the steps, sank into a chair and his headfell on his breast. "he has abandoned us, cast us off!" hemuttered. "abandoned us, he only feels bored with usnow. alone, all alone, like a solitary finger,"he repeated several times, stretching out his hand with the forefinger standing outfrom the others. then arina vlasyevna came up to him andleaning her grey head against his grey
head, she said: "what can we do, vasya?a son is a piece broken off. he's like a falcon that flies home andflies away again when it wants; but you and i are like mushrooms growing in the hollowof a tree, we sit side by side without moving from the same place. only i will never change for you, and youwill always be the same for me." vassily ivanovich took his hands from hisface and embraced his wife, his friend, more warmly than he had ever embraced herin his youth; she comforted him in his sorrow. fathers and sons by ivan turgenevchapter 22
in silence, only rarely exchanging a fewwords, our friends traveled as far as fedot's. bazarov was not altogether pleased withhimself, and arkady was displeased with him. he also felt gripped by that melancholywithout a cause, which only very young people experience. the coachman changed the horses and gettingup on to the box, inquired: "to the right or to the left?"arkady shuddered. the road to the right led to the town, andfrom there home; the road to the left led
to madame odintsov's place.he looked at bazarov. "evgeny," he asked, "to the left?" bazarov turned away."what folly is this?" he muttered. "i know it is folly," answered arkady."but what harm does it do? it's not for the first time." bazarov pulled his cap down over hisforehead. "as you like," he said at last."turn to the left," shouted arkady. the tarantass rolled off in the directionof nikolskoe. but having decided on committing the folly,the friends maintained an even more
obstinate silence than before, and seemedpositively bad tempered. already, by the manner in which the butlermet them in the porch of madame odintsov's house, the friends could guess that theyhad acted injudiciously in giving way so suddenly to a passing caprice. they were obviously not expected.they sat for quite a long time in the drawing room with rather stupid faces.at length madame odintsov came in to them. she greeted them with her usual politeness,but showed surprise at their rapid return, and judging by the, deliberation of hergestures and words, she was not over pleased about it.
they hastened to explain that they had onlycalled there on their way, and within four hours must continue their journey to thetown. she confined herself to a mild exclamation,asked arkady to convey her greetings to his father, and sent for her aunt. the princess appeared, looking half asleep,which gave her wrinkled old face an even more hostile expression.katya was unwell and did not leave her room. arkady suddenly realized that he was atleast as anxious to see katya as to see anna sergeyevna herself.
the four hours passed in small talk aboutone thing or another; anna sergeyevna both listened and talked without smiling. it was only when they were already sayinggood-by that her former friendliness seemed somehow to light up again in her. "i have an attack of spleen just now," shesaid, "but don't pay any attention to that, and come here again--i say that to both ofyou--before long." both bazarov and arkady responded with asilent bow, took their seats in the carriage, and without stopping againanywhere, drove straight home to maryino, where they arrived safely on the evening ofthe following day.
during the whole journey neither of them somuch as mentioned the name of madame odintsov; bazarov, in particular, hardlyopened his mouth, and kept staring sideways at the road with a kind of embitteredconcentration. at maryino everyone was overjoyed to seethem. the prolonged absence of his son had begunto make nikolai petrovich uneasy; he uttered a joyful exclamation and bounced upand down on the sofa, dangling his legs, when fenichka ran in to him with sparkling eyes and announced the arrival of the"young gentlemen"; even pavel petrovich felt to some degree pleasantly excited, andsmiled indulgently as he shook hands with
the returned wanderers. talk and questions followed quickly; arkadytalked most, especially at supper, which lasted till long after midnight. nikolai petrovich ordered up some bottlesof porter which had just been brought from moscow, and he himself made merry till hischeeks turned purple, laughing repeatedly with a rather childlike but nervouslaughter. even the servants were affected by thegeneral gaiety. dunyasha ran up and down like onepossessed, slamming doors from time to time; while pyotr at three o'clock in themorning was still trying to play a cossack
waltz on the guitar. the strings emitted their sweet andplaintive sounds in the motionless air, but except for some short preliminaryflourishes the cultured valet's efforts failed to produce any tune; nature had granted him no more talent for music thanit had for anything else. but meanwhile things had not been going toowell at maryino, and poor nikolai petrovich was having a hard time. every day difficulties arose on the farm--senseless, distressing difficulties. the troubles with the hired laborers hadbecome intolerable.
some gave notice or asked for higher wages,while others walked off with wages they had received in advance; the horses fell sick;the harness was damaged as though it had been burnt; the work was carelessly done; a threshing machine ordered from moscowturned out to be unusable because it was too heavy; another winnowing machine wasruined the very first time it was used; half the cattle sheds were burned down because a blind old woman on the farm wentwith a blazing firebrand in windy weather to fumigate her cow...of course, the oldwoman maintained that the whole mishap was due to the master's plan of introducingnew-fangled cheeses and dairy products.
the bailiff suddenly turned lazy and beganto grow fat as every russian grows fat when he gets an easy living. when he caught sight of nikolai petrovichin the distance, he would try to demonstrate his zeal by throwing a stick ata passing pig, or by threatening some half- naked ragamuffin, but for the rest of thetime he was generally asleep. the peasants who had been put on the rentsystem did not pay in time and stole wood from the forest; almost every night thewatchmen caught peasants' horses in the farm meadows and sometimes removed themafter a scrimmage. nikolai petrovich would fix a money finefor damages, but the matter usually ended
by the horses being returned to theirowners after they had been kept for a day or two on the master's forage. on top of all this the peasants began toquarrel among themselves; brothers asked for their property to be divided, theirwives could not get on together in one house; suddenly a quarrel would flare up, they would all rise to their feet, asthough at a given signal, would run to the porch of the estate office, and crawl infront of the master, often in a drunken state with battered faces, demanding justice and retribution; an uproar andclamor would ensue, the shrill screams of
the women mingling with the curses of themen. the contending parties had to be examined,and one had to shout oneself hoarse, knowing in advance that it was in any casequite impossible to reach a just settlement. there were not enough hands for theharvest; a neighboring yeoman, in the most benevolent manner, contracted to supply himwith reapers for a commission of two rubles per acre--and cheated him in the most shameless way; his peasant women demandedexorbitant prices, and meanwhile the corn got spoiled; the harvest was not in thecommon ownership, but at the same time the
council of guardians issued threats and demanded immediate and full payment ofinterest due... "it's beyond my power!" exclaimed nikolaipetrovich several times in despair. "i can't flog them myself; to send for thepolice--is against my principles, but without the fear of punishment you can doabsolutely nothing with them!" "du calme, du calme," pavel petrovich wouldremark on these occasions, but he hummed to himself, frowned and twisted his mustache. bazarov held himself aloof from all the"squabbles," and indeed as a guest it was not incumbent on him to meddle in otherpeople's affairs.
on the day after his arrival in maryino heset to work on his frogs, his infusoria, and his chemical experiments, and spent allhis time over them. arkady, on the contrary, considered it hisduty, if not to help his father, at least to create an impression of being ready tohelp him. he listened to him patiently and sometimesgave his advice, not that he expected it to be acted upon, but in order to show hisconcern. the details of agricultural management werenot repugnant to him; he even indulged in pleasant dreams about agricultural work,but at this time his mind was preoccupied with other ideas.
to his own surprise arkady found he wasthinking incessantly of nikolskoe; formerly he would have just shrugged his shouldersif anyone had told him he could feel bored under the same roof as bazarov-- particularly in his own home--but now hewas bored and longed to get away. he tried walking till he was tired out, butthat did not help either. one day when talking to his father, hefound out that nikolai petrovich possessed a number of quite interesting letters,written to his wife by madame odintsov's mother, and arkady gave him no peace until he had taken out the letters, for whichnikolai petrovich was obliged to rummage in
twenty different drawers and boxes. having gained possession of these crumblingpapers, arkady somehow calmed down as if he had secured a clearer vision of the goaltowards which he ought now to move. "'i say that to both of you,'" he kept onrepeating to himself, "those were the words she added.i shall go there, i shall go, hang it all!" then he recalled his last visit, the coldreception and his previous embarrassment, and shyness overwhelmed him. but the adventurous daring of youth, thesecret desire to try his luck, to test his powers independently without anyone else'sprotection--prevailed at last.
before ten days had passed after his returnto maryino, on the pretext of going to study the organization of sunday schools,he galloped off again to the town, and from there on to nikolskoe. uninterruptedly urging the driver forward,he dashed on like a young officer riding into battle; he felt at once frightened andlighthearted and breathless with impatience. "the main thing is--i mustn't think," hekept on saying to himself. his driver happened to be a high-spiritedfellow, who stopped in front of every inn and exclaimed, "a drink?" or "what about adrink?" but, to make up for that, after the
drink he did not spare his horses. at length there came into sight the highroof of the familiar house..."what shall i do?" suddenly flashed through arkady'smind. "anyhow, i can't turn back now!" the three horses sped gaily on; the driveryelled and whistled at them. already the little bridge was echoing underthe wheels and the horses' hoofs, and the avenue of lopped pines was drawingnearer...he caught a glimpse of a woman's pink dress moving among the dark green trees, and a young face peeped out fromunder the light fringe of a parasol...he
recognized katya, and she recognized him. arkady ordered the driver to stop thegalloping horses, jumped out of the carriage and went up to her. "it's you!" she murmured and slowly blushedall over; "let us go to my sister, she's here in the garden; she will be pleased tosee you." katya led arkady into the garden. his meeting with her struck him as aparticularly happy omen; he was delighted to see her, as though she were someoneclose to his heart. everything had happened so agreeably; nobutler, no formal announcement.
at a turn in the path he caught sight ofanna sergeyevna. she was standing with her back to him;hearing his footsteps, she gently turned round. arkady would have felt embarrassed again,but the first words which she uttered immediately set him at ease. "welcome, you runaway!" she said in hersmooth caressing voice, and came forward to meet him, smiling and screwing up her eyesfrom the sun and breeze. "where did you find him, katya?" "i have brought you something, annasergeyevna," he began, "which you certainly
don't expect...""you have brought yourself; that's better than anything else." fathers and sons by ivan turgenevchapter 23 having seen arkady off with ironicalsympathy, and given him to understand that he was not in the least deceived about thereal object of his journey, bazarov shut himself up in solitude, and set to workwith feverish intensity. he no longer argued with pavel petrovich,particularly since the latter assumed in his presence an oppressively aristocraticmanner and expressed his opinions more by inarticulate sounds than by words.
only on one occasion pavel petrovich fellinto a controversy with the nihilist over the then much discussed question about therights of the nobles in the baltic provinces, but he quickly stopped himself, remarking with a chilly politeness:"however, we cannot understand one another; i, at least, have not the honor ofunderstanding you." "i should think not!" exclaimed bazarov. "a human being can understand everything--how the ether vibrates, and what's going on in the sun; but how another person can blowhis nose differently from him, that he's incapable of understanding."
"what, is that a joke?" remarked pavelpetrovich in a questioning tone and walked away. however, he sometimes asked permission tobe present at bazarov's experiments and once even placed his perfumed face, washedwith the finest soap, over the microscope, in order to see how a transparent protozoon swallowed a green speck and busily chewedit with two very adroit organs which were in its throat. nikolai petrovich visited bazarov muchoftener than his brother; he would have come every day "to learn," as he expressedit, if the worries of his farm had not kept
him too busy. he did not interfere with the youngresearch worker; he used to sit down in a corner of the room and watch attentively,occasionally permitting himself some discreet question. during dinner and supper he used to try toturn the conversation to physics, geology or chemistry, since all other subjects,even agriculture, to say nothing of politics, might lead, if not to collisions,at least to mutual dissatisfaction. nikolai petrovich guessed that hisbrother's dislike of bazarov had not diminished.
a minor incident, among many others,confirmed his surmise. cholera began to break out in some placesin the neighborhood, and even "carried off" two people from maryino itself. one night pavel petrovich had a rathersevere attack of illness. he was in pain till the morning, but henever asked for bazarov's help; when he met him the next day, in reply to his questionwhy he had not sent for him, he answered, still very pale, but perfectly brushed andshaved. "surely i remember you said yourself youdon't believe in medicine." so the days passed.
bazarov went on working obstinately andgrimly...and meanwhile there was in nikolai petrovich's house one person to whom, if hedid not open his heart, he was at least glad to talk...that person was fenichka. he used to meet her chiefly in the earlymorning, in the garden or the farmyard; he never went to see her in her room and shehad only once come to his door to inquire-- should she give mitya his bath or not? she not only had confidence in him and wasnot afraid of him, she felt freer and more at ease with him than she did with nikolaipetrovich himself. it is hard to say how this came about;perhaps because unconsciously she felt in
bazarov the absence of anythingaristocratic, of all that superiority which at once attracts and overawes. in her eyes he was both an excellent doctorand a simple man. she attended to her baby in his presencewithout any embarrassment, and once when she was suddenly overcome by giddiness andheadache she took a spoonful of medicine from his hands. when nikolai petrovich was there she keptbazarov somehow at a distance; she did this not out of hypocrisy but from a definitesense of propriety. of pavel petrovich she was more afraid thanever; for some time he had begun to watch
her, and would suddenly appear, as if hehad sprung out of the earth behind her back, in his english suit with an impassive vigilant face and with his hands in hispockets. "it's like having cold water thrown overone," said fenichka to dunyasha, who sighed in response and thought of another"heartless" man. bazarov, without the faintest suspicion ofthe fact, had become the "cruel tyrant" of her heart.fenichka liked bazarov, and he liked her also. his face was even transformed when hetalked to her; it took on an open kindly
expression, and his habitual nonchalancewas modified by a kind of jocular attentiveness. fenichka was growing prettier every day.there is a period in the life of young women when they suddenly begin to expandand blossom like summer roses; such a time had come for fenichka. everything contributed to it, even the juneheat which was then at its height. dressed in a light white dress, she seemedherself whiter and more graceful; the sun had not tanned her skin; but the heat, fromwhich she could not protect herself, spread a slight flush over her cheeks and ears and
a gentle languor through her whole body,reflected in the dreamy expression of her charming eyes. she was almost unable to work and kept onsighing and complaining with a comic helplessness."you should go oftener to bathe," nikolai petrovich told her. he had arranged a large bathing placecovered with an awning in the only one of his ponds which had not yet completelydried up. "oh, nikolai petrovich! but you die before you get to the pond andon the way back you die again.
you see, there's no shade in the garden.""that's true, there's no shade," said nikolai petrovich, wiping his forehead. one day at seven o'clock in the morning,bazarov was returning from a walk and encountered fenichka in the lilac arbor,which had long ceased to flower but was still thick with green leaves. she was sitting on the bench and had asusual thrown a white kerchief over her head; beside her lay a whole heap of redand white roses still wet with dew. he said good morning to her. "oh, evgeny vassilich!" she said and liftedthe edge of her kerchief a little in order
to look at him, in doing which her arm wasbared to the elbow. "what are you doing here?" said bazarov,sitting down beside her. "are you making a bouquet?""yes, for the table at lunch. nikolai petrovich likes it." "but lunch is still a long way off.what a mass of flowers." "i gathered them now, for it will be hotlater on and one can't go out. even now one can only just breathe. i feel quite weak from the heat.i'm quite afraid i may get ill." "what an idea!let me feel your pulse."
bazarov took her hand, felt for the evenlythrobbing pulse but did not even start to count its beats."you'll live a hundred years," he said, dropping her hand. "ah, god forbid!" she cried."but why? don't you want a long life?""well, but a hundred years! we had an old woman of eighty-five near us--and what a martyr she was! dirty, deaf, bent, always coughing, she wasonly a burden to herself. what kind of a life is that?" "so it's better to be young.""well, isn't it?"
"but why is it better?tell me!" "how can you ask why? why, here am i, now i'm young, i can doeverything--come and go and carry, and i don't need to ask anyone foranything...what can be better?" "but it's all the same to me, whether i'myoung or old." "how do you mean--all the same?it's impossible what you say." "well, judge for yourself, fedosyanikolayevna, what good is my youth to me? i live alone, a solitary man...""that always depends on you." "it doesn't all depend on me!
at least someone ought to take pity on me."fenichka looked sideways at bazarov, but said nothing."what's that book you have?" she said, after a short pause. "that?it's a scientific book, a difficult one." "are you still studying?don't you find it dull? i should think you must know everythingalready." "evidently not everything.you try to read a little of it." "but i don't understand a word of it. is it russian?" asked fenichka, taking theheavily bound book in both hands.
"how thick it is!""yes, it's russian." "all the same i shan't understandanything." "well and i don't want you to understandit. i want to look at you while you arereading. when you read the tip of your nose moves sonicely." fenichka, who had started to spell out in alow voice an article "on creosote" she had chanced upon, laughed and threw down thebook...it slipped from the bench to the ground. "i like it too when you laugh," remarkedbazarov.
"oh, stop!""i like it when you talk. it's like a little brook babbling." fenichka turned her head away."what a one you are!" she murmured, as she went on sorting out the flowers."and how can you like listening to me? you have talked with such clever ladies." "ah, fedosya nikolayevna!believe me, all the clever ladies in the world aren't worth your little elbow." "there now, what will you invent next!"whispered fenichka, clasping her hands together.bazarov picked up the book from the ground.
"that's a medical book. why do you throw it away?""medical?" repeated fenichka, and turned round to him. "do you know, ever since you gave me thosedrops--do you remember?--mitya has slept so well.i really don't know how to thank you; you are so good, really." "but actually you have to pay doctors,"said bazarov with a smile. "doctors, you know yourself, are graspingpeople." fenichka raised her eyes which seemed stilldarker from the whitish reflection cast on
the upper part of her face, and looked atbazarov. she did not know whether he was joking ornot. "if you want, we shall be very glad...ishall have to ask nikolai petrovich..." "you think i want money?" interruptedbazarov. "no, i don't want money from you.""what then?" asked fenichka. "what?" repeated bazarov. "guess.""as if i'm likely to guess." "well, i will tell you; i want--one ofthose roses." fenichka laughed again and even threw upher hands--so amused she was by bazarov's
request.she laughed and at the same time she felt flattered. bazarov was watching her intently."by all means," she said at length, and bending over the bench she began to pickout some roses. "which will you have--a red or a whiteone?" "red, and not too large."she sat up again. "here, take it," she said, but at once drewback her outstretched hand, and biting her lips, looked towards the entrance of thesummerhouse and then listened. "what is it?" asked bazarov.
"nikolai petrovich?""no--he has gone to the fields...and i'm not afraid of him...but pavel petrovich...ifancied .". "what?" "it seemed to me he was passing by.no...it was no one. take it."fenichka gave bazarov the rose. "what makes you afraid of pavel petrovich?" "he always frightens me.one talks--and he says nothing, but just looks knowing.of course, you don't like him either. you remember you were always quarrelingwith him.
i don't know what you quarreled about, buti can see you turning him this way and that..." fenichka showed with her hands how in heropinion bazarov turned pavel petrovich round about.bazarov smiled. "and if he defeated me," he asked, "wouldyou stand up for me?" "how could i stand up for you?but no, one doesn't get the better of you." "you think so? but i know a hand which, if it wanted to,could knock me down with one finger." "what hand is that?""why, don't you know really?
smell the wonderful scent of this rose yougave me." fenichka stretched her little neck forwardand put her face close to the flower,...the kerchief slipped from her hair on to hershoulders, disclosing a soft mass of black shining and slightly ruffled hair. "wait a moment; i want to smell it withyou," said bazarov; he bent down and kissed her vigorously on her parted lips. she shuddered, pushed him back with bothher hands on his breast, but pushed weakly, so that he was able to renew and prolonghis kiss. a dry cough made itself heard behind thelilac bushes.
fenichka instantly moved away to the otherend of the bench. pavel petrovich showed himself in theentrance, bowed slightly, muttered in a tone of sorrowful anger, "you are here!"and walked away. fenichka at once gathered up all her rosesand went out of the summerhouse. "that was wrong of you, evgeny vassilich,"she whispered as she left; there was a tone of sincere reproach in her whisper. bazarov remembered another recent scene andhe felt both ashamed and contemptuously annoyed. but he shook his head at once, ironicallycongratulated himself on his formal
assumption of the role of a don juan, andwent back to his own room. pavel petrovich went out of the garden andmade his way with slow steps to the wood. he stayed there quite a long time, and whenhe returned to lunch, nikolai petrovich inquired anxiously whether he felt unwell;his face had turned so dark. "you know i sometimes suffer from biliousattacks," pavel petrovich answered calmly.
Mandala Coloring Book For Adults Volume 2