ame day
to Arkady, as he packed his box, crouching on the floor. 'Well, it's a
capital thing. But you needn't have been such a humbug. I expected
something from you in quite another quarter. Perhaps, though, it took
you by surprise yourself?'

'I certainly didn't expect this when I parted from you,' answered
Arkady; 'but why are you a humbug yourself, calling it "a capital
thing," as though I didn't know your opinion of marriage.'

'Ah, my dear fellow,' said Bazarov, 'how you talk! You see what I'm
doing; there seems to be an empty space in the box, and I am putting
hay in; that's how it is in the box of our life; we would stuff it up
with anything rather than have a void. Don't be offended, please; you
remember, no doubt, the opinion I have always had of Katerina
Sergyevna. Many a young lady's called clever simply because she can
sigh cleverly; but yours can hold her own, and, indeed, she'll hold it
so well that she'll have you under her thumb--to be sure, though,
that's quite as it ought to be.' He slammed the lid to, and got up from
the floor. 'And now, I say again, good-bye, for it's useless to deceive
ourselves--we are parting for good, and you know that yourself ... you
have acted sensibly; you're not made for our bitter, rough, lonely
existence. There's no dash, no hate in you, but you've the daring of
youth and the fire of youth. Your sort, you gentry, can never get
beyond refined submission or refined indignation, and that's no good.
You won't fight--and yet you fancy yourselves gallant chaps--but we
mean to fight. Oh well! Our dust would get into your eyes, our mud
would bespatter you, but yet you're not up to our level, you're
admiring yourselves unconsciously, you like to abuse yourselves; but
we're sick of that--we want something else! we want to smash other
people! You're a capital fellow; but you're a sugary, liberal snob for
all that--_ay volla-too_, as my parent is fond of saying.'

'You are parting from me for ever, Yevgeny,' responded Arkady
mournfully; 'and have you nothing else to say to me?'

Bazarov scratched the back of his head. 'Yes, Arkady, yes, I have other
things to say to you, but I'm not going to say them, because that's
sentimentalism--that means, mawkishness. And you get married as soon as
you can; and build your nest, and get children to your heart's content.
They'll have the wit to be born in a better time than you and me. Aha!
I see the horses are ready. Time's up! I've said good-