y the
young apostle of progress as he fluttered into the room. Though, with
his characteristic impudence, he had made up his mind to go into the
country to visit a woman whom he hardly knew, who had never invited
him; but with whom, according to information he had gathered, such
talented and intimate friends were staying, he was nevertheless
trembling to the marrow of his bones; and instead of bringing out the
apologies and compliments he had learned by heart beforehand, he
muttered some absurdity about Evdoksya Kukshin having sent him to
inquire after Anna Sergyevna's health, and Arkady Nikolaevitch's too,
having always spoken to him in the highest terms.... At this point he
faltered and lost his presence of mind so completely that he sat down
on his own hat. However, since no one turned him out, and Anna
Sergyevna even presented him to her aunt and her sister, he soon
recovered himself and began to chatter volubly. The introduction of the
commonplace is often an advantage in life; it relieves over-strained
tension, and sobers too self-confident or self-sacrificing emotions by
recalling its close kinship with them. With Sitnikov's appearance
everything became somehow duller and simpler; they all even ate a more
solid 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, to
Bazarov, who was also undressing, what you once said to me, 'Why are
you so melancholy? One would think you had fulfilled some sacred duty.'
For some time past a sort of pretence of free-and-easy banter had
sprung up between the two young men, which is always an unmistakable
sign 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 that
why 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 face
to 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 as
Hohlovsky, and there you can get horses at Fedot'