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In the wall behind the grill the door opened, a soldier came out with a bared saber on his shoulder; behind him appeared Pavel, Andrey, Fedya Mazin, the two Gusevs, Samoylov, Bukin, Somov, and five more young men whose names were unknown to the mother. Pavel smiled kindly; Andrey also, showing his teeth as he nodded to her.
"What devilry is this?" he thought. "I'm a married man, and to send me such a queer . . . silly letter! Who wrote it?" Pavel Ivanitch turned the letter over and over before his eyes, read it through again, and spat with disgust. "'I love you'" . . . he said jeeringly. "A nice boy she has pitched on!
Once, when after supper Pavel drew the curtain over the window, sat down in a corner, and began to read, his tin lamp hanging on the wall over his head, the mother, after removing the dishes, came out from the kitchen and carefully walked up to him. He raised his head, and without speaking looked at her with a questioning expression.
'Get me the sword there you know, in the loft... make haste.... Eroshka went out. Pavel Afanasievitch suddenly became exceedingly pale, hurriedly took off his dressing-gown, put on a reddish coat with big paste buttons... twisted a cravat round his neck... Vassily looked at him, and twiddled the fingers of his right hand. 'Well, are we to fight then, Pavel Afanasievitch?
'And do all Germans tell the truth? said Pavel Petrovitch, and his face assumed an expression as unsympathetic, as remote, as if he had withdrawn to some cloudy height. 'Not all, replied Bazarov, with a short yawn. He obviously did not care to continue the discussion.
"They came, snatched, and carried off!" mumbled the mother, waving her hands. As her son remained at home, her heart began to beat more lightly. Her mind stubbornly halted before one fact and refused to be moved. "How he scoffs at us, that yellow ruffian! How he threatens us!" "All right, mamma!" Pavel suddenly said with resolution. "Let us pick all this up!"
Anyway, that ought to be encouraged an English wash-stand stands for progress." The antipathy between Pavel Petrovitch and Bazaroff became more pronounced as the days went by. There were several passages of arms between them the one taking the old-fashioned view of life, the other dismissing contemptuously his outlook as unprogressive.
"And so would Tatiana," Mariana observed. "Why are people so devoted to him?" Nejdanov did not reply. "What sort of books did Pavel bring you?" Mariana asked. "Oh, nothing new. 'The Story of the Four Brothers, and then the ordinary, well-known ones, which are far better I think." Mariana looked around uneasily. "I wonder what has become of Tatiana? She promised to come early." "Here I am!"
The new mistress did not get on with Glafira Petrovna either; she would have left her in peace, but old Korobyin wanted to have a hand in the management of his son-in-law's affairs; to superintend the property of such a near relative, he said, was not beneath the dignity of even a general. One must add that Pavel Petrovitch would not have been above managing the property even of a total stranger.
He was not ashamed of them; he let them flow in the darkness. 'Pavel was right, he thought, 'I feel it; this evening will not come again. At last he got up, lighted a candle, put on his dressing-gown, took down from the bookshelf the second volume of Raumer's History of the Hohenstaufen, and sighing twice, he set to work diligently to read it.
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