CHAPTER XIX
Great as was Madame Odintsov's self-control, and superior as she was toevery kind of prejudice, she felt awkward when she went into thedining-room to dinner. The meal went off fairly successfully, however.Porfiry Platonovitch made his appearance and told various anecdotes; hehad just come back from the town. Among other things, he informed themthat the governor had ordered his secretaries on special commissions towear spurs, in case he might send them off anywhere for greater speedon horseback. Arkady talked in an undertone to Katya, anddiplomatically attended to the princess's wants. Bazarov maintained agrim and obstinate silence. Madame Odintsov looked at him twice, notstealthily, but straight in the face, which was bilious and forbidding,with downcast eyes, and contemptuous determination stamped on everyfeature, and thought: 'No ... no ... no.' ... After dinner, she wentwith the whole company into the garden, and seeing that Bazarov wantedto speak to her, she took a few steps to one side and stopped. He wentup to her, but even then did not raise his eyes, and said hoarsely--
'I have to apologise to you, Anna Sergyevna. You must be in a fury withme.'
'No, I'm not angry with you, Yevgeny Vassilyitch,' answered MadameOdintsov; 'but I am sorry.'
'So much the worse. Any way, I'm sufficiently punished. My position,you will certainly agree, is most foolish. You wrote to me, "Why goaway?" But I cannot stay, and don't wish to. To-morrow I shall begone.'
'Yevgeny Vassilyitch, why are you ...'
'Why am I going away?'
'No; I didn't mean to say that.'
'There's no recalling the past, Anna Sergyevna ... and this was boundto come about sooner or later. Consequently I must go. I can onlyconceive of one condition upon which I could remain; but that conditionwill never be. Excuse my impertinence, but you don't love me, and younever will love me, I suppose?'
Bazarov's eyes glittered for an instant under their dark brows.
Anna Sergyevna did not answer him. 'I'm afraid of this man,' flashedthrough her brain.
'Good-bye, then,' said Bazarov, as though he guessed her thought, andhe went back into the house.
Anna Sergyevna walked slowly after him, and calling Katya to her, shetook her arm. She did not leave her side till quite evening. She didnot play cards, and was constantly laughing, which did not at allaccord with her pale and perplexed face. Arkady was bewildered, andlooked on at her as all young people look on--that's to say, he wasconstantly asking himself, 'What is the meaning of that?' Bazarov shuthimself up in his room; he came back to tea, however. Anna Sergyevnalonged to say some friendly word to him, but she did not know how toaddress him....
An unexpected incident relieved her from her embarrassment; a stewardannounced the arrival of Sitnikov.
It is difficult to do justice in words to the strange figure cut by theyoung apostle of progress as he fluttered into the room. Though, withhis characteristic impudence, he had made up his mind to go into thecountry to visit a woman whom he hardly knew, who had never invitedhim; but with whom, according to information he had gathered, suchtalented and intimate friends were staying, he was neverthelesstrembling to the marrow of his bones; and instead of bringing out theapologies and compliments he had learned by heart beforehand, hemuttered some absurdity about Evdoksya Kukshin having sent him toinquire after Anna Sergyevna's health, and Arkady Nikolaevitch's too,having always spoken to him in the highest terms.... At this point hefaltered and lost his presence of mind so completely that he sat downon his own hat. However, since no one turned him out, and AnnaSergyevna even presented him to her aunt and her sister, he soonrecovered himself and began to chatter volubly. The introduction of thecommonplace is often an advantage in life; it relieves over-strainedtension, and sobers too self-confident or self-sacrificing emotions byrecalling its close kinship with them. With Sitnikov's appearanceeverything became somehow duller and simpler; they all even ate a moresolid supper, and retired to bed half-an-hour earlier than usual.
'I might now repeat to you,' said Arkady, as he lay down in bed, toBazarov, who was also undressing, what you once said to me, 'Why areyou so melancholy? One would think you had fulfilled some sacred duty.'For some time past a sort of pretence of free-and-easy banter hadsprung up between the two young men, which is always an unmistakablesign of secret displeasure or unexpressed suspicions.
'I'm going to my father's to-morrow,' said Bazarov.
Arkady raised himself and leaned on his elbow. He felt both surprised,and for some reason or other pleased. 'Ah!' he commented, 'and is thatwhy you're sad?'
Bazarov yawned. 'You'll get old if you know too much.'
'And Anna Sergyevna?' persisted Arkady.
'What about Anna Sergyevna?'
'I mean, will she let you go?'
'I'm not her paid man.'
Arkady grew thoughtful, while Bazarov lay down and turned with his faceto the wall.
Some minutes went by in silence. 'Yevgeny?' cried Arkady suddenly.
'Well?'
'I will leave with you to-morrow too.'
Bazarov made no answer.
'Only I will go home,' continued Arkady. 'We will go together as far asHohlovsky, and there you can get horses at Fedot's. I should bedelighted to make the acquaintance of your people, but I'm afraid ofbeing in their way and yours. You are coming to us again later, ofcourse?'
'I've left all my things with you,' Bazarov said, without turninground.
'Why doesn't he ask me why I am going, and just as suddenly as he?'thought Arkady. 'In reality, why am I going, and why is he going?' hepursued his reflections. He could find no satisfactory answer to hisown question, though his heart was filled with some bitter feeling. Hefelt it would be hard to part from this life to which he had grown soaccustomed; but for him to remain alone would be rather odd. 'Somethinghas passed between them,' he reasoned to himself; 'what good would itbe for me to hang on after he's gone? She's utterly sick of me; I'mlosing the last that remained to me.' He began to imagine AnnaSergyevna to himself, then other features gradually eclipsed the lovelyimage of the young widow.
'I'm sorry to lose Katya too!' Arkady whispered to his pillow, on whicha tear had already fallen.... All at once he shook back his hair andsaid aloud--
'What the devil made that fool of a Sitnikov turn up here?'
Bazarov at first stirred a little in his bed, then he uttered thefollowing rejoinder: 'You're still a fool, my boy, I see. Sitnikovs areindispensable to us. I--do you understand? I need dolts like him. It'snot for the gods to bake bricks, in fact!'...
'Oho!' Arkady thought to himself, and then in a flash all thefathomless depths of Bazarov's conceit dawned upon him. 'Are you and Igods then? at least, you're a god; am not I a dolt then?'
'Yes,' repeated Bazarov; 'you're still a fool.'
Madame Odintsov expressed no special surprise when Arkady told her thenext day that he was going with Bazarov; she seemed tired and absorbed.Katya looked at him silently and seriously; the princess went so far asto cross herself under her shawl so that he could not help noticing it.Sitnikov, on the other hand, was completely disconcerted. He had onlyjust come in to lunch in a new and fashionable get-up, not on thisoccasion of a Slavophil cut; the evening before he had astonished theman told off to wait on him by the amount of linen he had brought withhim, and now all of a sudden his comrades were deserting him! He took afew tiny steps, doubled back like a hunted hare at the edge of a copse,and abruptly, almost with dismay, almost with a wail, announced that heproposed going too. Madame Odintsov did not attempt to detain him.
'I have a very comfortable carriage,' added the luckless young man,turning to Arkady; 'I can take you, while Yevgeny Vassilyitch can takeyour coach, so it will be even more convenient.'
'But, really, it's not at all in your way, and it's a long way to myplace.'
'That's nothing, nothing; I've plenty of time; besides, I have businessin that direction.'
'Gin-selling?' asked Arkady, rather too contemptuously.
But Sitnikov was reduced to such desperation that he
did not even laughas usual. 'I assure you, my carriage is exceedingly comfortable,' hemuttered; 'and there will be room for all.'
'Don't wound Monsieur Sitnikov by a refusal,' commented Anna Sergyevna.
Arkady glanced at her, and bowed his head significantly.
The visitors started off after lunch. As she said good-bye to Bazarov,Madame Odintsov held out her hand to him, and said, 'We shall meetagain, shan't we?'
'As you command,' answered Bazarov.
'In that case, we shall.'
Arkady was the first to descend the steps; he got into Sitnikov'scarriage. A steward tucked him in respectfully, but he could havekilled him with pleasure, or have burst into tears.
Bazarov took his seat in the coach. When they reached Hohlovsky, Arkadywaited till Fedot, the keeper of the posting-station, had put in thehorses, and going up to the coach, he said, with his old smile, toBazarov, 'Yevgeny, take me with you; I want to come to you.'
'Get in,' Bazarov brought out through his teeth.
Sitnikov, who had been walking to and fro round the wheels of hiscarriage, whistling briskly, could only gape when he heard thesewords; while Arkady coolly pulled his luggage out of the carriage,took his seat beside Bazarov, and bowing politely to his formerfellow-traveller, he called, 'Whip up!' The coach rolled away, and wassoon out of sight.... Sitnikov, utterly confused, looked at hiscoachman, but the latter was flicking his whip about the tail of theoff horse. Then Sitnikov jumped into the carriage, and growling at twopassing peasants, 'Put on your caps, idiots!' he drove to the town,where he arrived very late, and where, next day, at Madame Kukshin's,he dealt very severely with two 'disgusting stuck-up churls.'
When he was seated in the coach by Bazarov, Arkady pressed his handwarmly, and for a long while he said nothing. It seemed as thoughBazarov understood and appreciated both the pressure and the silence.He had not slept all the previous night, and had not smoked, and hadeaten scarcely anything for several days. His profile, already thinner,stood out darkly and sharply under his cap, which was pulled down tohis eyebrows.
'Well, brother,' he said at last, 'give us a cigarette. But look, Isay, is my tongue yellow?'
'Yes, it is,' answered Arkady.
'Hm ... and the cigarette's tasteless. The machine's out of gear.'
'You look changed lately certainly,' observed Arkady.
'It's nothing! we shall soon be all right. One thing's a bother--mymother's so tender-hearted; if you don't grow as round as a tub, andeat ten times a day, she's quite upset. My father's all right, he'sknown all sorts of ups and downs himself. No, I can't smoke,' he added,and he flung the cigarette into the dust of the road.
'Do you think it's twenty miles?' asked Arkady.
'Yes. But ask this sage here.' He indicated the peasant sitting on thebox, a labourer of Fedot's.
But the sage only answered, 'Who's to know--miles hereabout aren'tmeasured,' and went on swearing in an undertone at the shaft horse for'kicking with her head-piece,' that is, shaking with her head down.
'Yes, yes,' began Bazarov; 'it's a lesson to you, my young friend, aninstructive example. God knows, what rot it is? Every man hangs on athread, the abyss may open under his feet any minute, and yet he mustgo and invent all sorts of discomforts for himself, and spoil hislife.'
'What are you alluding to?' asked Arkady.
'I'm not alluding to anything; I'm saying straight out that we've bothbehaved like fools. What's the use of talking about it! Still, I'venoticed in hospital practice, the man who's furious at hisillness--he's sure to get over it.'
'I don't quite understand you,' observed Arkady; 'I should have thoughtyou had nothing to complain of.'
'And since you don't quite understand me, I'll tell you this--to mymind, it's better to break stones on the highroad than to let a womanhave the mastery of even the end of one's little finger. That's all...' Bazarov was on the point of uttering his favourite word,'romanticism,' but he checked himself, and said, 'rubbish. You don'tbelieve me now, but I tell you; you and I have been in femininesociety, and very nice we found it; but to throw up society like thatis for all the world like a dip in cold water on a hot day. A manhasn't time to attend to such trifles; a man ought not to be tame, saysan excellent Spanish proverb. Now, you, I suppose, my sage friend,' headded, turning to the peasant sitting on the box--'you've a wife?'
The peasant showed both the friends his dull blear-eyed face.
'A wife? Yes. Every man has a wife.'
'Do you beat her?'
'My wife? Everything happens sometimes. We don't beat her without goodreason!'
'That's excellent. Well, and does she beat you?'
The peasant gave a tug at the reins. 'That's a strange thing to say,sir. You like your joke.'... He was obviously offended.
'You hear, Arkady Nikolaevitch! But we have taken a beating ... that'swhat comes of being educated people.'
Arkady gave a forced laugh, while Bazarov turned away, and did not openhis mouth again the whole journey.
The twenty miles seemed to Arkady quite forty. But at last, on theslope of some rising ground, appeared the small hamlet where Bazarov'sparents lived. Beside it, in a young birch copse, could be seen a smallhouse with a thatched roof.
Two peasants stood with their hats on at the first hut, abusing eachother. 'You're a great sow,' said one; 'and worse than a little suckingpig.'
'And your wife's a witch,' retorted the other.
'From their unconstrained behaviour,' Bazarov remarked to Arkady, 'andthe playfulness of their retorts, you can guess that my father'speasants are not too much oppressed. Why, there he is himself comingout on the steps of his house. They must have heard the bells. It's he;it's he--I know his figure. Ay, ay! how grey he's grown though, poorchap!'
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