Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
At X , the two friends made the acquaintance of Madame Odintsov, a wealthy widow, who lived alone in her large, well-ordered establishment, with her one daughter, Katya Sergyevna. Bazaroff was contemptuously amused at the luxury and peace that pervaded the house.
So great was the silent, unvoiced antipathy between the two men that Nikolai Petrovitch, even, breathed more freely when Arkady and Bazaroff at the end of a fortnight announced their intention of visiting the neighbouring town of X .
Bazaroff was the type of "one sent with a message," a great figure, gifted with a definite charm, not without a certain aureole. All that is not needed now, and it is ridiculous to speak of heroes and artists of work. Brilliant figures in literature will probably not appear. Those who plunge into politics will only destroy themselves in vain.
The figure of Bazaroff, in regard to whom Turgenev gave a new interpretation of the word "nihilist," possesses few of the revolutionary ideas that are now generally associated with his kind. Young Russia greatly objected to the picture, and the author, who so far had been hailed as a champion of liberty, was now looked on as a reactionist.
His mother was greatly excited and his father, touching his neck with his fingers, turned his head round as though he were trying whether it were properly screwed on, and then, all at once, he opened his wide mouth and went off into a perfectly noiseless chuckle. "I've come to you for six whole weeks, governor," Bazaroff said to him. "I want to work, so please don't hinder me now."
"Did you notice how shy and nervous he is?" Arkady shook his head, as though he himself were not shy and nervous. "It's something astonishing," pursued Bazaroff, "these old idealists, they develop their nervous systems till they break down... so balance is lost.... In my room there's an English wash-stand, but the door won't fasten.
She could see nothing but his motionless bent back, but even that afforded her some faint consolation. In the morning Bazaroff spoke to his father in a slow, drowsy voice. "Governor, I am in a bad way; I've got the infection, and in a few days you will have to bury me." Vassily Ivanovitch staggered back as if someone had aimed a blow at his leg. "God have mercy on you! What do you mean?
Arkady had brought back with him his great friend, Bazaroff, a tall man, long and lean, with a broad forehead, a nose flat at the base and sharper at the end, large greenish eyes, and drooping whiskers of a sandy colour a face which was lighted up by a tranquil smile and showed self-confidence and intelligence.
Arisha produced the most tempting dainties she could cook and old Bazaroff brought out a bottle of wine, told some of the best of his old stories, and, regardless of the snubs uttered occasionally by Bazaroff, seemed to be filled with an ecstatic joy as long as he could be near him.
"Your words save me from rather a deplorable necessity. I have made up my mind to fight you." Bazaroff opened his eyes wide. "Me?" "Undoubtedly." "What for, pray?" "I cannot endure you; to my idea your presence here is superfluous, I despise you; and if that is not enough for you..." Pavel Petrovitch's eyes glittered.... Bazaroff's, too, were flashing.
Word Of The Day