eny
Vassilyitch, you positively must come to know a lady here, who is
really capable of understanding you, and for whom your visit would be a
real festival; you have heard of her, I suppose?'

'Who is it?' Bazarov brought out unwillingly.

'Kukshina, _Eudoxie_, Evdoksya Kukshin. She's a remarkable nature,
_emancipee_ in the true sense of the word, an advanced woman. Do you
know what? We'll all go together to see her now. She lives only two
steps from here. We will have lunch there. I suppose you have not
lunched yet?'

'No; not yet.'

'Well, that's capital. She has separated, you understand, from her
husband; she is not dependent on any one.'

'Is she pretty?' Bazarov cut in.

'N-no, one couldn't say that.'

'Then, what the devil are you asking us to see her for?'

'Fie; you must have your joke.... She will give us a bottle of
champagne.'

'Oh, that's it. One can see the practical man at once. By the way, is
your father still in the gin business?'

'Yes,' said Sitnikov, hurriedly, and he gave a shrill spasmodic laugh.
'Well? Will you come?'

'I don't really know.'

'You wanted to see people, go along,' said Arkady in an undertone.

'And what do you say to it, Mr. Kirsanov?' Sitnikov put in. 'You must
come too; we can't go without you.'

'But how can we burst in upon her all at once?'

'That's no matter. Kukshina's a brick!'

'There will be a bottle of champagne?' asked Bazarov.

'Three!' cried Sitnikov; 'that I answer for.'

'What with?'

'My own head.'

'Your father's purse would be better. However, we are coming.'

CHAPTER XIII

The small gentleman's house in the Moscow style, in which Avdotya
Nikitishna, otherwise Evdoksya, Kukshin, lived, was in one of the
streets of X----, which had been lately burnt down; it is well known
that our provincial towns are burnt down every five years. At the door,
above a visiting card nailed on all askew, there was a bell-handle to
be seen, and in the hall the visitors were met by some one, not exactly
a servant, nor exactly a companion, in a cap--unmistakable tokens of
the progressive tendencies of the lady of the house. Sitnikov inquired
whether Avdotya Nikitishna was at home.

'Is that you, _Victor_?' sounded a shrill voice from the adjoining
room. 'Come in.'

The woman in the cap disappeared at once.

'I'm not alone,' observed Sitnikov, with a sharp look at Arkady and
Bazarov as he briskly pulled off his overcoat, beneath which appeared