liked extremely.) 'Liberty ... is the great thing; that's my rule.... I
don't want to hamper you ... not ...'

He suddenly ceased, and made for the door.

'We shall soon see each other again, father, really.'

But Vassily Ivanovitch, without turning round, merely waved his hand
and was gone. When he got back to his bedroom he found his wife in bed,
and began to say his prayers in a whisper, so as not to wake her up.
She woke, however. 'Is that you, Vassily Ivanovitch?' she asked.

'Yes, mother.'

'Have you come from Enyusha? Do you know, I'm afraid of his not being
comfortable on that sofa. I told Anfisushka to put him on your
travelling mattress and the new pillows; I should have given him our
feather-bed, but I seem to remember he doesn't like too soft a bed....'

'Never mind, mother; don't worry yourself. He's all right. Lord, have
mercy on me, a sinner,' he went on with his prayer in a low voice.
Vassily Ivanovitch was sorry for his old wife; he did not mean to tell
her over night what a sorrow there was in store for her.

Bazarov and Arkady set off the next day. From early morning all was
dejection in the house; Anfisushka let the tray slip out of her hands;
even Fedka was bewildered, and was reduced to taking off his boots.
Vassily Ivanitch was more fussy than ever; he was obviously trying to
put a good face on it, talked loudly, and stamped with his feet, but
his face looked haggard, and his eyes were continually avoiding his
son. Arina Vlasyevna was crying quietly; she was utterly crushed, and
could not have controlled herself at all if her husband had not spent
two whole hours early in the morning exhorting her. When Bazarov, after
repeated promises to come back certainly not later than in a month's
time, tore himself at last from the embraces detaining him, and took
his seat in the coach; when the horses had started, the bell was
ringing, and the wheels were turning round, and when it was no longer
any good to look after them, and the dust had settled, and Timofeitch,
all bent and tottering as he walked, had crept back to his little room;
when the old people were left alone in their little house, which seemed
suddenly to have grown shrunken and decrepit too, Vassily Ivanovitch,
after a few more moments of hearty waving of his handkerchief on the
steps, sank into a chair, and his head dropped on to his breast. 'He
has cast us off; he has forsaken us,' he faltered; 'forsaken us; he was
dull with us. Alon