no resistance, and was
not frightened.

'I see, I see.... It's nothing, everything's as it should be; he will
have a good set of teeth. If anything goes wrong, tell me. And are you
quite well yourself?'

'Quite, thank God.'

'Thank God, indeed--that's the great thing. And you?' he added, turning
to Dunyasha.

Dunyasha, a girl very prim in the master's house, and a romp outside
the gates, only giggled in answer.

'Well, that's all right. Here's your gallant fellow.'

Fenitchka received the baby in her arms.

'How good he was with you!' she commented in an undertone.

'Children are always good with me.' answered Bazarov; 'I have a way
with them.'

'Children know who loves them,' remarked Dunyasha.

'Yes, they certainly do,' Fenitchka said. 'Why, Mitya will not go to
some people for anything.'

'Will he come to me?' asked Arkady, who, after standing in the distance
for some time, had gone up to the arbour.

He tried to entice Mitya to come to him, but Mitya threw his head back
and screamed, to Fenitchka's great confusion.

'Another day, when he's had time to get used to me,' said Arkady
indulgently, and the two friends walked away.

'What's her name?' asked Bazarov.

'Fenitchka ... Fedosya,' answered Arkady.

'And her father's name? One must know that too.'

'Nikolaevna.'

'_Bene_. What I like in her is that she's not too embarrassed. Some
people, I suppose, would think ill of her for it. What nonsense! What
is there to embarrass her? She's a mother--she's all right.'

'She's all right,' observed Arkady,--'but my father.'

'And he's right too,' put in Bazarov.

'Well, no, I don't think so.'

'I suppose an extra heir's not to your liking?'

'I wonder you're not ashamed to attribute such ideas to me!' retorted
Arkady hotly; 'I don't consider my father wrong from that point of
view; I think he ought to marry her.'

'Hoity-toity!' responded Bazarov tranquilly. 'What magnanimous fellows
we are! You still attach significance to marriage; I did not expect
that of you.'

The friends walked a few paces in silence.

'I have looked at all your father's establishment,' Bazarov began
again. 'The cattle are inferior, the horses are broken down; the
buildings aren't up to much, and the workmen look confirmed loafers;
while the superintendent is either a fool, or a knave, I haven't quite
found out which yet.'

'You are rather hard on everything to-day, Yevgeny Vassilyevitch.'

'And the dear good pea