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'But how about that baron, your new acquaintance, is he coming to-day? asked Pigasov. 'Yes, he is coming. 'He is a great philosopher, they say; he is just brimming over with Hegel, I suppose? Darya Mihailovna made no reply, and making Alexandra Pavlovna sit down on the sofa, established herself near her. 'Philosophies, continued Pigasov, 'are elevated points of view!
'I know him, put in Pigasov, 'he's a double dummy, a noisy dummy, if you like! If all people were like that, it would need a large sum of money to induce one to consent to live upon my word! 'Very likely, answered Bassistoff; 'but he plays a leading part in society. 'Well, never mind him! cried Alexandra Pavlovna. 'Peace be with him!
Pigasov; but you may say what you like, penetrating as you are, it's hard for me to believe that you understand every one and everything. I think you are mistaken. According to your ideas, Rudin is a kind of Tartuffe. 'No, the point is, that he is not even a Tartuffe. Tartuffe at least knew what he was aiming at; but this fellow, for all his cleverness 'Well, well, what of him?
'Darya Mihailovna is mistaken, he said in an unsteady voice, 'I do not only attack women; I am not a great admirer of the whole human species. 'What can have given you such a poor opinion of them? inquired Rudin. Pigasov looked him straight in the face. 'The study of my own heart, no doubt, in which I find every day more and more that is base. I judge of others by myself.
Pigasov educated himself, sent himself to the district school and then to the gymnasium, taught himself French, German, and even Latin, and, leaving the gymnasiums with an excellent certificate, went to Dorpat, where he maintained a perpetual struggle with poverty, but succeeded in completing his three years' course.
Pigasov smiled ironically. A footman came in and announced the arrival of Alexandra Pavlovna and her brother. Darya Mihailovna rose to meet her guests. 'How do you do, Alexandrine? she began, going up to her, 'how good of you to come!... How are you, Sergei Pavlitch? Volintsev shook hands with Darya Mihailovna and went up to Natalya Alexyevna.
This Pigasov was a strange person. Full of acerbity against everything and every one especially against women he was railing from morning to night, sometimes very aptly, sometimes rather stupidly, but always with gusto. His ill-humour almost approached puerility; his laugh, the sound of his voice, his whole being seemed steeped in venom.
'There's one thing more you don't know about him, she said to him, with a gesture towards Pigasov, 'he is a terrible hater of women, he is always attacking them; pray, show him the true path. Rudin involuntarily looked down upon Pigasov; he was a head and shoulders taller. Pigasov almost withered up with fury, and his sour face grew pale.
My chief enemy was the professor of mathematics, a little sour, bilious man who believed in nothing, a character like Pigasov, but far more able than he was.... By the way, how is Pigasov, is he living? 'Oh, yes; and only fancy, he is married to a peasant woman, who, they say, beats him. 'Serve him right! And Natalya Alexyevna is she well? 'Yes. 'Is she happy? 'Yes.
But the offended French lady could not be pacified for a long while, and kept muttering something to herself. 'You need not believe me, continued Pigasov coolly, 'but I assure you I told the simple truth. Who should know if not I? After that perhaps you won't believe that our neighbour, Madame Tchepuz, Elena Antonovna, told me herself, mind herself, that she had murdered her nephew?
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