sants are taking your father in to a dead
certainty. You know the Russian proverb, "The Russian peasant will
cheat God Himself."'

'I begin to agree with my uncle,' remarked Arkady; 'you certainly have
a poor opinion of Russians.'

'As though that mattered! The only good point in a Russian is his
having the lowest possible opinion of himself. What does matter is that
two and two make four, and the rest is all foolery.'

'And is nature foolery?' said Arkady, looking pensively at the
bright-coloured fields in the distance, in the beautiful soft light of
the sun, which was not yet high up in the sky.

'Nature, too, is foolery in the sense you understand it. Nature's not a
temple, but a workshop, and man's the workman in it.'

At that instant, the long drawn notes of a violoncello floated out to
them from the house. Some one was playing Schubert's _Expectation_ with
much feeling, though with an untrained hand, and the melody flowed with
honey sweetness through the air.

'What's that?' cried Bazarov in amazement.

'It's my father.'

'Your father plays the violoncello?'

'Yes.'

'And how old is your father?'

'Forty-four.'

Bazarov suddenly burst into a roar of laughter.

'What are you laughing at?'

'Upon my word, a man of forty-four, a _paterfamilias_ in this
out-of-the-way district, playing on the violoncello!'

Bazarov went on laughing; but much as he revered his master, this time
Arkady did not even smile.

CHAPTER X

About a fortnight passed by. Life at Maryino went on its accustomed
course, while Arkady was lazy and enjoyed himself, and Bazarov worked.
Every one in the house had grown used to him, to his careless manners,
and his curt and abrupt speeches. Fenitchka, in particular, was so far
at home with him that one night she sent to wake him up; Mitya had had
convulsions; and he had gone, and, half joking, half-yawning as usual,
he stayed two hours with her and relieved the child. On the other hand
Pavel Petrovitch had grown to detest Bazarov with all the strength of
his soul; he regarded him as stuck-up, impudent, cynical, and vulgar;
he suspected that Bazarov had no respect for him, that he had all but a
contempt for him--him, Pavel Kirsanov!

Nikolai Petrovitch was rather afraid of the young 'nihilist,' and was
doubtful whether his influence over Arkady was for the good; but he was
glad to listen to him, and was glad to be present at his scientific and
chemical experiments. Bazarov