ried Evdoksya. She gave directions,
however, to her maid, both as regards the lunch and the champagne.

'What do you think about it?' she added, turning to Bazarov. 'I'm
persuaded you share my opinion.'

'Well, no,' retorted Bazarov; 'a piece of meat's better than a piece of
bread even from the chemical point of view.'

'You are studying chemistry? That is my passion. I've even invented a
new sort of composition myself.'

'A composition? You?'

'Yes. And do you know for what purpose? To make dolls' heads so that
they shouldn't break. I'm practical, too, yon see. But everything's not
quite ready yet. I've still to read Liebig. By the way, have you read
Kislyakov's article on Female Labour, in the _Moscow Gazette_? Read it
please. You're interested in the woman question, I suppose? And in the
schools too? What does your friend do? What is his name?'

Madame Kukshin shed her questions one after another with affected
negligence, not waiting for an answer; spoilt children talk so to their
nurses.

'My name's Arkady Nikolaitch Kirsanov,' said Arkady, 'and I'm doing
nothing.'

Evdoksya giggled. 'How charming! What, don't you smoke? Victor, do you
know, I'm very angry with you.'

'What for?'

'They tell me you've begun singing the praises of George Sand again. A
retrograde woman, and nothing else! How can people compare her with
Emerson! She hasn't an idea on education, nor physiology, nor anything.
She'd never, I'm persuaded, heard of embryology, and in these
days--what can be done without that?' (Evdoksya even threw up her
hands.) 'Ah, what a wonderful article Elisyevitch has written on that
subject! He's a gentleman of genius.' (Evdoksya constantly made use of
the word 'gentleman' instead of the word 'man.') 'Bazarov, sit by me on
the sofa. You don't know, perhaps, I'm awfully afraid of you.'

'Why so? Allow me to ask.'

'You're a dangerous gentleman; you're such a critic. Good God! yes!
why, how absurd, I'm talking like some country lady. I really am a
country lady, though. I manage my property myself; and only fancy, my
bailiff Erofay's a wonderful type, quite like Cooper's Pathfinder;
something in him so spontaneous! I've come to settle here finally; it's
an intolerable town, isn't it? But what's one to do?'

'The town's like every town,' Bazarov remarked coolly.

'All its interests are so petty, that's what's so awful! I used to
spend the winters in Moscow ... but now my lawful spouse, Monsieur
Kukshin