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It is impossible that Bazarov was not like the Nihilists of the sixties; but in any case as a figure in fiction, whatever the fact may be, he lives and will continue to live.... From "An Outline of Russian Literature" . NIKOLAI PETROVITCH KIRSANOV, a landowner. PAVEL PETROVITCH KIRSANOV, his brother. ARINA VLASYEVNA, mother of Bazarov. ANNA SERGYEVNA ODINTSOV, a wealthy widow.
'You must stay a little while with me; it's really not bad here. I will introduce you to my sister; she plays the piano well. That is a matter of indifference to you, Monsieur Bazarov; but you, I think, Monsieur Kirsanov, are fond of music. Besides my sister I have an old aunt living with me, and one of our neighbours comes in sometimes to play cards; that makes up all our circle.
His mother, one of the Kolyazin family, as a girl called Agathe, but as a general's wife Agathokleya Kuzminishna Kirsanov, was one of those military ladies who take their full share of the duties and dignities of office.
Foreseeing inevitable separation, he wanted at least to remain her friend, as though friendship with such a woman was possible.... She secretly left Baden, and from that time steadily avoided Kirsanov. He returned to Russia, and tried to live his former life again; but he could not get back into the old groove.
'Bazarov, Kirsanov, he announced abruptly in imitation of Bazarov. 'Delighted, answered Madame Kukshin, and fixing on Bazarov a pair of round eyes, between which was a forlorn little turned-up red nose, 'I know you, she added, and pressed his hand too. Bazarov scowled.
'But since that's a sense you don't understand, since you haven't that sensation, you can't judge of it. 'In other words, Arkady Kirsanov is too exalted for my comprehension. I bow down before him and say no more. 'Don't, please, Yevgeny; we shall really quarrel at last. 'Ah, Arkady! do me a kindness. I entreat you, let us quarrel for once in earnest....
'Certainly. 'Yes, I must wash, answered Arkady, and was just moving towards the door, but at that instant there came into the drawing-room a man of medium height, dressed in a dark English suit, a fashionable low cravat, and kid shoes, Pavel Petrovitch Kirsanov.
A carriage appeared with three posting-horses harnessed abreast; in the carriage he caught a glimpse of the blue band of a student's cap, the familiar outline of a dear face. 'Arkasha! Arkasha! cried Kirsanov, and he ran waving his hands.... A few instants later, his lips were pressed to the beardless, dusty, sunburnt-cheek of the youthful graduate.
'And what do you say to it, Mr. Kirsanov? Sitnikov put in. 'You must come too; we can't go without you. 'But how can we burst in upon her all at once? 'That's no matter. Kukshina's a brick! 'There will be a bottle of champagne? asked Bazarov. 'Three! cried Sitnikov; 'that I answer for. 'What with? 'My own head. 'Your father's purse would be better. However, we are coming.
At the bottom of these sheets stood in letters, enclosed carefully in scroll-work, the words, 'Piotr Kirsanov, General-Major. In 1835 Nikolai Petrovitch left the university, a graduate, and in the same year General Kirsanov was put on to the retired list after an unsuccessful review, and came to Petersburg with his wife to live.
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