Fathers and Sons
laughing, and replaced the book upon the bench, whence it slipped to
the ground.
"I love to see you laugh," said Bazarov.
"Say no more," she interrupted.
"Also, I love to hear you speak. Your voice is like the bubbling of a
brook."
She turned away her head, and fell to sorting her flowers. Presently
she resumed:
"Why do you love to hear me speak? You must have talked to many much
finer and cleverer ladies?"
"I assure you, nevertheless, that all the I fine and clever ladies' in
the world are worth less than your little finger."
"Oh, come!" And she crossed her hands.
Bazarov picked up the book.
"It is a work on medicine," he observed. "Why did you throw it away?"
"It is a work on medicine?" she re-echoed, and turned to him again. "Do
you know, ever since you gave me those capsules--you remember them, do
you not?--Mitia has slept splendidly! I can never sufficiently thank
you. You are indeed good!"
"But the physician ought to be paid his fee," remarked he with a
smile. "Doctors never do their work for nothing."
Upon this she raised her eyes. They looked all the darker for the
brilliant glare which was beating upon the upper portion of her face.
As a matter of fact, she was trying to divine whether he was speaking
in earnest or in jest.
"Of course I should be delighted to pay you!" she said. "But first I
must mention the matter to Nikolai Petrovitch."
"What?" he exclaimed. "You really think it is _money_ I want? No, I do
not require of you money."
"What, then?" she queried.
"What? Well, guess."
"How can I guess?"
"Then I must tell you. I want, I want--I want one of those roses."
She burst into a peal of laughter, and clapped her hands with delight
at the request. Yet the laughter was accompanied with a certain sense
of relief. Bazarov eyed her.
"Ah, you must excuse my laughing, Evgenii Vasilitch," she said (bending
over the seat of the bench, she fumbled among the roses). "Which sort
should you prefer? A red rose or a white one?"
"A red one, and not too large."
"Then take this one," she said, sitting up again. Yet even as she spoke
she drew back her outstretched hand, and, biting her lips, glanced in
the direction of the entrance to the arbour, and listened intently.
"What is it?" asked Bazarov. "Do you hear Nikolai Petrovitch coming?"
"No. Besides, every one has gone out to the fields. Nor do I fear any
one except Paul Petrovitch. I merely thought that, that----"
"You thought what?"
"That some one _might_ be coming this way. It seems I was wrong. Take
this rose."
She handed Bazarov the gift.
"_Why_ do you fear Paul Petrovitch?" he asked.
"I do so because he frightens me--when I speak to him he returns me no
answer; he just stares at me in a meaning sort of way. You, too, do not
like him, I believe? It was with him that you had such a quarrel, was
it not? What it was all about I do not know, but at least I know that
you worsted him like, like With a gesture she signified the manner in
which she considered Bazarov to have routed Paul Petrovitch.
"And, had _he_ worsted _me_," he inquired, "would you have taken my
part?"
"How could I? We should have agreed no better than you and he."
"You think so? Then let me tell you that a certain little hand could
twist me around its little finger."
"Whose hand is that?"
"I expect you can guess. But smell this rose which you have just given
me."
She bent forward in the direction of the flower, and as she did so her
scarf slipped from her head to her shoulders, and revealed a mass of
dark, soft, fluffy, glossy hair.
"Wait," said Bazarov. "I, too, will smell the rose." And, reaching
forward, he kissed her full on her parted lips.
She started back, and pressed her hands against his breast as though
to repel him; but so weak was the act of repulsion that he found it
possible to renew and to prolong his kiss.
Suddenly there sounded from among the lilac bushes a dry cough, and
just as Thenichka darted to the other end of the bench Paul Petrovitch
appeared, bowed slightly to the pair, said with a sort of melancholy
acidity in his tone: "It is you, then?" and turned on his heel and
departed. The next moment Thenichka picked up her roses and rushed from
the arbour. As she passed Bazarov she whispered in his ear: "That was
indeed wrong of you, Evgenii Vasilitch!" And the words voiced a note of
reproach that was palpably genuine and unfeigned.
Instantly Bazarov's thoughts recurred to another scene in which he
had recently taken part, and he became conscience-stricken, as also
contemptuous of himself, and vexed. He shook his head, congratulated
himself ironically on his folly, and departed to his room.
As for Paul Petrovitch, he left the garden and walked slowly into the
forest. He remained there a considerable time; and, on returning to
breakfast, looked so dark of mien that Nikolai Petrovitch inquired
anxiously whether he were not ill.
"As you know," replied the other quietly, "I suffer habitually from
biliousness."
XXIV
Two hours later he knocked at Bazarov's door.
"I feel that I must apologise for disturbing you in your pursuits," he
said as he seated himself near the window and rested both hands upon
a fine ivory-headed cane which he had brought with him (as a rule he
did not carry one). "But the fact is that circumstances compel me to
request five minutes of your time."
"The _whole_ of my time is at your disposal," replied Bazarov, across
whose features, as Paul Petrovitch had crossed the threshold, there had
flitted a curious expression.
"No; five minutes will be sufficient. I have come to ask you a simple
question."
"And what might that question be?"
"Listen. When first you came to stay in my brother's house, and I had
not yet been forced to deny myself the pleasure of conversing with you,
it fell to my lot to hear you hold forth on many different subjects.
But, unless my memory deceives me, never once did the conversation
between you and myself, or in my presence, happen to fall upon the
subject of the duel or single combat. Would you, therefore, mind
putting yourself out to the extent of giving me the benefit of your
views on the subject mentioned?"
Bazarov, who had risen to receive his visitor, now reseated himself
upon the edge of the table, and folded his arms upon his breast.
"My views are as follows," he replied. "From the theoretical
standpoint, the duel is a sheer absurdity. From the practical
standpoint, it is another matter altogether."
"You intend to convey (if I have understood you aright?) that,
apart from your theoretical views on the duel, you would not, in
practice, allow yourself to be insulted without subsequently demanding
satisfaction?"
"You have guessed my meaning precisely."
"Good! It is a view which I am indeed glad to hear you express, in that
it delivers me from a dilemma."
"You mean, from a state of indecision?"
"They are one and the same thing. I express myself in this manner to
the end that you may understand me. I am not one of your college rats.
Consequently I repeat that through your words I am relieved of the
necessity of resorting to what would have been a painful expedient. To
speak plainly, I have made up my mind to fight you."
Bazarov raised his eyebrows a little.
"To fight me?" he said.
"Yes, to fight you."
"And for what reason--if you do not mind telling me?"
"For a reason which I might explain, but concerning which I prefer to
remain silent. Suffice it for me to intimate that your presence offends
me, that I detest and despise your person, and (should the foregoing be
insufficient) that I----"
"Enough!" interrupted Bazarov. His eyes had flashed even as Paul's had
done. "Further explanations would be superfluous. You have presumed to
whet upon me your chivalrous spirit; wherefore, though I might have
refused it, I will afford you satisfaction to the top of your bent."
"I have to express to you my sincere obligation. From the first did
I feel encouraged to hope that you would accept my challenge without
constraining me to resort to more forcible measures."
"In other words, and speaking without metaphor, to that cane?" said
Bazarov in a tone of supreme indifference.
"Well, that is fair enough. Further insults are not needed--nor would
you have found the offering of them altogether free from danger.
Pray, therefore, remain a gentleman. It is as one that I accept your
challenge."
"Good!" replied Paul Petrovitch; and he laid aside his cane. "Next, a
few words on the subject of the conditions of our duel. First, pray be
so good as to inform me whether or not you deem it necessary to resort
to the formality of some such small difference of opinion as might
serve as an ostensible excuse for my challenge?"
"I think that unnecessary. Such things are best done without
formalities of any kind."
"I agree--that is to say, I, like you, consider that to go into the
true reasons for our antagonism would be inexpedient. Let us therefore
allege to the world that we could not abide one another. What need
would there be to say more?"
"What indeed?" echoed Bazarov in a tone decidedly ironical.
"Also, with regard to the actual conditions of the duel. Inasmuch as we
have no seconds--for where could we find them?----"
"Quite so. Where indeed?"
"I have the honour to propose to you the following. Let us fight
to-morrow morning--say, at six o'clock: the rendezvous to be behind the
copse, the weapons to be pistols, and the distance ten paces."
"Ten paces. Quite so! You and I abhor each other even at ten paces."
"Eight, then, if you wish?"
"The same applies to eight."
"And the number of shots to be two apiece. Also, in case either of us
should fall, let each of us previously place in his pocket a letter
laying upon himself the entire blame for his demise."
"To that condition I wholly demur," said Bazarov.
"I think that you are straying into the pages of a French novel, and
away from reality."
"Possibly I am. But, also, you will agree that to incur an unmerited
suspicion of murder is a prospect not pleasant to contemplate?"
"I do. Yet still there remains another method of avoiding such an
awkward imputation. That is to say, though we shall have no seconds, we
can have a witness."
"Whom precisely, if I might ask?"
"Peter."
"Peter? What Peter?"
"Peter the valet, a man who stands at the apex of contemporary culture,
and could therefore play the rôle, and perform the functions, proper to
such an occasion pre-eminently _comme il faut._"
"I think that you are jesting, my good sir?"
"No, I am not. If you will deign to give my proposal consideration you
will speedily arrive at the conviction that it is as simple as it is
charged with good sense. Schiller it would be impossible to hide in a
bag, but I will undertake to prepare Peter for the part, and to bring
him to the rendezvous."
"Still you are pleased to jest," said Paul Petrovitch as he rose. "But
as you have so kindly met me, I have not the right to make further
claims upon your time. All is arranged, then? In passing, have you any
pistols?"
"How should I have any pistols? I am not a man of war."
"Then perhaps you will allow me to offer you some of mine? Rest assured
that they have not been fired by me for five years."
"A very comforting assurance!"
"Lastly," said Paul Petrovitch as he reached for his cane, "it only
remains for me to thank you, and to leave you to your pursuits. I have
the honour to bid you good-day."
"And I to say farewell until our pleasant meeting."
With which Bazarov escorted his visitor to the door.
Paul Petrovitch gone, Bazarov stood awhile in thought. Then he
exclaimed:
"Splendid indeed! Yet also unutterably stupid! What a comedy to play!