think you were not coming to-day,' he began in a
musical voice, with a genial swing and shrug of the shoulders, as he
showed his splendid white teeth. 'Did anything happen on the road.'

'Nothing happened,' answered Arkady; 'we were rather slow. But we're as
hungry as wolves now. Hurry up Prokofitch, dad; and I'll be back
directly.'

'Stay, I'm coming with you,' cried Bazarov, pulling himself up suddenly
from the sofa. Both the young men went out.

'Who is he?' asked Pavel Petrovitch.

'A friend of Arkasha's; according to him, a very clever fellow.'

'Is he going to stay with us?'

'Yes.'

'That unkempt creature?'

'Why, yes.'

Pavel Petrovitch drummed with his finger tips on the table. 'I fancy
Arkady _s'est degourdi_,' he remarked. 'I'm glad he has come back.'

At supper there was little conversation. Bazarov especially said
nothing, but he ate a great deal. Nikolai Petrovitch related various
incidents in what he called his career as a farmer, talked about the
impending government measures, about committees, deputations, the
necessity of introducing machinery, etc. Pavel Petrovitch paced slowly
up and down the dining-room (he never ate supper), sometimes sipping at
a wineglass of red wine, and less often uttering some remark or rather
exclamation, of the nature of 'Ah! aha! hm!' Arkady told some news from
Petersburg, but he was conscious of a little awkwardness, that
awkwardness, which usually overtakes a youth when he has just ceased to
be a child, and has come back to a place where they are accustomed to
regard him and treat him as a child. He made his sentences quite
unnecessarily long, avoided the word 'daddy,' and even sometimes
replaced it by the word 'father,' mumbled, it is true, between his
teeth; with an exaggerated carelessness he poured into his glass far
more wine than he really wanted, and drank it all off. Prokofitch did
not take his eyes off him, and kept chewing his lips. After supper they
all separated at once.

'Your uncle's a queer fish,' Bazarov said to Arkady, as he sat in his
dressing-gown by his bedside, smoking a short pipe. 'Only fancy such
style in the country! His nails, his nails--you ought to send them to
an exhibition!'

'Why of course, you don't know,' replied Arkady. 'He was a great swell
in his own day, you know. I will tell you his story one day. He was
very handsome, you know, used to turn all the women's heads.'

'Oh, that's it, is it? So he keeps it up in memory