ture,
upholstered in dark green velveteen, with a _renaissance_ bookcase of
old black oak, with bronze statuettes on the magnificent writing-table,
with an open hearth. He threw himself on the sofa, clasped his hands
behind his head, and remained without moving, looking with a face
almost of despair at the ceiling. Whether he wanted to hide from the
very walls that which was reflected in his face, or for some other
reason, he got up, drew the heavy window curtains, and again threw
himself on the sofa.

CHAPTER IX

On the same day Bazarov made acquaintance with Fenitchka. He was
walking with Arkady in the garden, and explaining to him why some of
the trees, especially the oaks, had not done well.

'You ought to have planted silver poplars here by preference, and
spruce firs, and perhaps limes, giving them some loam. The arbour there
has done well,' he added, 'because it's acacia and lilac; they're
accommodating good fellows, those trees, they don't want much care. But
there's some one in here.'

In the arbour was sitting Fenitchka, with Dunyasha and Mitya. Bazarov
stood still, while Arkady nodded to Fenitchka like an old friend.

'Who's that?' Bazarov asked him directly they had passed by. 'What a
pretty girl!'

'Whom are you speaking of?'

'You know; only one of them was pretty.'

Arkady, not without embarrassment, explained to him briefly who
Fenitchka was.

'Aha!' commented Bazarov; 'your father's got good taste, one can see. I
like him, your father, ay, ay! He's a jolly fellow. We must make
friends though,' he added, and turned back towards the arbour.

'Yevgeny!' Arkady cried after him in dismay; 'mind what you are about,
for mercy's sake.'

'Don't worry yourself,' said Bazarov; 'I know how to behave myself--I'm
not a booby.'

Going up to Fenitchka, he took off his cap.

'Allow me to introduce myself,' he began, with a polite bow. 'I'm a
harmless person, and a friend of Arkady Nikolaevitch's.'

Fenitchka got up from the garden seat and looked at him without
speaking.

'What a splendid baby!' continued Bazarov; 'don't be uneasy, my praises
have never brought ill-luck yet. Why is it his cheeks are so flushed?
Is he cutting his teeth?'

'Yes,' said Fenitchka; 'he has cut four teeth already, and now the gums
are swollen again.'

'Show me, and don't be afraid, I'm a doctor.'

Bazarov took the baby up in his arms, and to the great astonishment
both of Fenitchka and Dunyasha the child made