y have all turned chemists and materialists
...'

'A good chemist is twenty times as useful as any poet,' broke in
Bazarov.

'Oh, indeed,' commented Pavel Petrovitch, and, as though falling
asleep, he faintly raised his eyebrows. 'You don't acknowledge art
then, I suppose?'

'The art of making money or of advertising pills!' cried Bazarov, with
a contemptuous laugh.

'Ah, ah. You are pleased to jest, I see. You reject all that, no doubt?
Granted. Then you believe in science only?'

'I have already explained to you that I don't believe in anything; and
what is science--science in the abstract? There are sciences, as there
are trades and crafts; but abstract science doesn't exist at all.'

'Very good. Well, and in regard to the other traditions accepted in
human conduct, do you maintain the same negative attitude?'

'What's this, an examination?' asked Bazarov.

Pavel Petrovitch turned slightly pale.... Nikolai Petrovitch thought it
his duty to interpose in the conversation.

'We will converse on this subject with you more in detail some day,
dear Yevgeny Vassilyitch; we will hear your views, and express our own.
For my part, I am heartily glad you are studying the natural sciences.
I have heard that Liebig has made some wonderful discoveries in the
amelioration of soils. You can be of assistance to me in my
agricultural labours; you can give me some useful advice.'

'I am at your service, Nikolai Petrovitch; but Liebig's miles over our
heads! One has first to learn the a b c, and then begin to read, and we
haven't set eyes on the alphabet yet.'

'You are certainly a nihilist, I see that,' thought Nikolai Petrovitch.
'Still, you will allow me to apply to you on occasion,' he added aloud.
'And now I fancy, brother, it's time for us to be going to have a talk
with the bailiff.'

Pavel Petrovitch got up from his seat.

'Yes,' he said, without looking at any one; 'it's a misfortune to live
five years in the country like this, far from mighty intellects! You
turn into a fool directly. You may try not to forget what you've been
taught, but--in a snap!--they'll prove all that's rubbish, and tell you
that sensible men have nothing more to do with such foolishness, and
that you, if you please, are an antiquated old fogey. What's to be
done? Young people, of course, are cleverer than we are!'

Pavel Petrovitch turned slowly on his heels, and slowly walked away;
Nikolai Petrovitch went after him.

'Is he always l