ight-headed creature!' moaned Pavel Petrovitch,
clasping his hands mournfully behind his head. 'I can't bear any
insolent upstart to dare to touch ...' he whispered a few minutes
later.

Nikolai Petrovitch only sighed; he did not even suspect to whom these
words referred.

Bazarov presented himself before him at eight o'clock the next day. He
had already had time to pack, and to set free all his frogs, insects,
and birds.

'You have come to say good-bye to me?' said Nikolai Petrovitch, getting
up to meet him.

'Yes.'

'I understand you, and approve of you fully. My poor brother, of
course, is to blame; and he is punished for it. He told me himself that
he made it impossible for you to act otherwise. I believe that you
could not avoid this duel, which ... which to some extent is explained
by the almost constant antagonism of your respective views.' (Nikolai
Petrovitch began to get a little mixed up in his words.) 'My brother is
a man of the old school, hot-tempered and obstinate.... Thank God that
it has ended as it has. I have taken every precaution to avoid
publicity.'

'I'm leaving you my address, in case there's any fuss,' Bazarov
remarked casually.

'I hope there will be no fuss, Yevgeny Vassilyitch.... I am very sorry
your stay in my house should have such a ... such an end. It is the
more distressing to me through Arkady's ...'

'I shall be seeing him, I expect,' replied Bazarov, in whom
'explanations' and 'protestations' of every sort always aroused a
feeling of impatience; 'in case I don't, I beg you to say good-bye to
him for me, and accept the expression of my regret.'

'And I beg ...' answered Nikolai Petrovitch. But Bazarov went off
without waiting for the end of his sentence.

When he heard of Bazarov's going, Pavel Petrovitch expressed a desire
to see him, and shook his hand. But even then he remained as cold as
ice; he realised that Pavel Petrovitch wanted to play the magnanimous.
He did not succeed in saying good-bye to Fenitchka; he only exchanged
glances with her at the window. Her face struck him as looking
dejected. 'She'll come to grief, perhaps,' he said to himself.... 'But
who knows? she'll pull through somehow, I dare say!' Piotr, however,
was so overcome that he wept on his shoulder, till Bazarov damped him
by asking if he'd a constant supply laid on in his eyes; while Dunyasha
was obliged to run away into the wood to hide her emotion. The
originator of all this woe got into a lig