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The peasant either made no reply, or articulated a few words of this sort, 'Well, we'll try ... because, you see, to be sure.... 'You explain to me what your mir is, Bazarov interrupted; 'and is it the same mir that is said to rest on three fishes?
There are sciences, as there are trades and crafts; but abstract science doesn't exist at all. 'Very good. Well, and in regard to the other traditions accepted in human conduct, do you maintain the same negative attitude? 'What's this, an examination? asked Bazarov. Pavel Petrovitch turned slightly pale.... Nikolai Petrovitch thought it his duty to interpose in the conversation.
But it turns out, you see, that I was right yesterday when I told you we were both old people.... How was it I saw nothing? That's what amazes me! Anna Sergyevna laughed again, and quickly turned her head away. 'The younger generation have grown awfully sly, remarked Bazarov, and he too laughed. 'Good-bye, he began again after a short silence.
'And so you haven't the least artistic feeling? she observed, putting her elbow on the table, and by that very action bringing her face nearer to Bazarov. 'How can you get on without it? 'Why, what is it wanted for, may I ask? 'Well, at least to enable one to study and understand men. Bazarov smiled.
She raised her crushed fingers to her lips, breathed on them, and suddenly, impulsively getting up from her low chair, she moved with rapid steps towards the door, as though she wished to bring Bazarov back.... A maid came into the room with a decanter on a silver tray. Madame Odintsov stood still, told her she could go, and sat down again, and again sank into thought.
It turned out that Madame Odintsov had not wasted her time in solitude; she had read a good many excellent books, and spoke herself in excellent Russian. She turned the conversation upon music; but noticing that Bazarov did not appreciate art, she quietly brought it back to botany, even though Arkady was just launching into a discourse upon the significance of national melodies.
'That's all nonsense.... I need no one's aid, Pavel Petrovitch declared jerkily, 'and ... we must ... again ... He tried to pull at his moustaches, but his hand failed him, his eyes grew dim, and he lost consciousness. 'Here's a pretty pass! A fainting fit! What next! Bazarov cried unconsciously, as he laid Pavel Petrovitch on the grass.
'Congratulate me, cried Bazarov suddenly, 'to-day's the 22nd of June, my guardian angel's day. Let's see how he will watch over me. To-day they expect me home, he added, dropping his voice.... 'Well, they can go on expecting.... What does it matter!
There is nothing, or hardly anything, in Bazarov, of the terrible revolutionary whom we have since learnt to look for under this title. Turgenev was not the man to call up such a figure. He was far too dreamy, too gentle, too good-natured a being.
Going up to Fenitchka, he took off his cap. 'Allow me to introduce myself, he began, with a polite bow. 'I'm a harmless person, and a friend of Arkady Nikolaevitch's. Fenitchka got up from the garden seat and looked at him without speaking. 'What a splendid baby! continued Bazarov; 'don't be uneasy, my praises have never brought ill-luck yet. Why is it his cheeks are so flushed?
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