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Updated: June 5, 2025
His driver happened to be a lad of spirit; he halted before every public house, saying, 'A drink or not a drink? but, to make up for it, when he had drunk he did not spare his horses. At last the lofty roof of the familiar house came in sight.... 'What am I to do? flashed through Arkady's head.
'I'm leaving you my address, in case there's any fuss, Bazarov remarked casually. 'I hope there will be no fuss, Yevgeny Vassilyitch.... I am very sorry your stay in my house should have such a ... such an end. It is the more distressing to me through Arkady's ...
Slowly Arkady's heart sunk. To complete the picture, the peasants they met were all in tatters and on the sorriest little nags; the willows, with their trunks stripped of bark, and broken branches, stood like ragged beggars along the roadside; cows lean and shaggy and looking pinched up by hunger, were greedily tearing at the grass along the ditches.
'How beautiful, my God! thought Nikolai Petrovitch, and his favourite verses were almost on his lips; he remembered Arkady's Stoff und Kraft and was silent, but still he sat there, still he gave himself up to the sorrowful consolation of solitary thought. He was fond of dreaming; his country life had developed the tendency in him.
A man about sixty entered, white-haired, thin, and swarthy, in a cinnamon-coloured dress-coat with brass buttons, and a pink neckerchief. He smirked, went up to kiss Arkady's hand, and bowing to the guest retreated to the door, and put his hands behind him. 'Here he is, Prokofitch, began Nikolai Petrovitch; 'he's come back to us at last.... Well, how do you think him looking?
'I'm here, was heard Bazarov's voice from Arkady's room. Vassily Ivanovitch turned round quickly. 'Aha! you wanted to pay a visit to your friend; but you were too late, amice, and we have already had a long conversation with him. Now we must go in to tea, mother summons us. By the way, I want to have a little talk with you. 'What about? 'There's a peasant here; he's suffering from icterus....
After waiting till the end of the quadrille, Sitnikov led Arkady up to Madame Odintsov; but he hardly seemed to be intimately acquainted with her; he was embarrassed in his sentences, while she looked at him in some surprise. But her face assumed an expression of pleasure when she heard Arkady's surname. She asked him whether he was not the son of Nikolai Petrovitch. 'Yes.
Bazaroff alone seemed supremely indifferent to the atmosphere of pleasure which pervaded his friend's home-coming. As the two young men left the room, Pavel Petrovitch turned to his brother with a slightly questioning look on his clear-cut, clean-shaved, refined face. "Who is he?" he asked. "A friend of Arkady's; according to him, a very clever fellow." "Is he going to stay with us?" "Yes."
But here Arkady's eloquence deserted him; he lost the thread, stammered, and was forced to be silent for a moment. Katya still did not raise her eyes. She seemed not to understand what he was leading up to in all this, and to be waiting for something.
Besides this, even the previous evening Anna Sergyevna had not been herself; and Katya herself had felt ill at ease, as though she were conscious of some fault in herself. As she yielded to Arkady's entreaties, she said to herself that it was for the last time.
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