unced them to perfection with genuine
Parisian _chic_, and at the same time he said '_si j'aurais_' for '_si
j'avais_,' '_absolument_' in the sense of 'absolutely,' expressed
himself, in fact, in that Great Russo-French jargon which the French
ridicule so when they have no reason for assuring us that we speak
French like angels, '_comme des anges_.'

Arkady, as we are aware, danced badly, while Bazarov did not dance at
all; they both took up their position in a corner; Sitnikov joined
himself on to them, with an expression of contemptuous scorn on his
face, and giving vent to spiteful comments, he looked insolently about
him, and seemed to be really enjoying himself. Suddenly his face
changed, and turning to Arkady, he said, with some show of
embarrassment it seemed, 'Odintsova is here!'

Arkady looked round, and saw a tall woman in a black dress standing at
the door of the room. He was struck by the dignity of her carriage. Her
bare arms lay gracefully beside her slender waist; gracefully some
light sprays of fuchsia drooped from her shining hair on to her sloping
shoulders; her clear eyes looked out from under a rather overhanging
white brow, with a tranquil and intelligent expression--tranquil it was
precisely, not pensive--and on her lips was a scarcely perceptible
smile. There was a kind of gracious and gentle force about her face.

'Do you know her?' Arkady asked Sitnikov.

'Intimately. Would you like me to introduce you?'

'Please ... after this quadrille.'

Bazarov's attention, too, was directed to Madame Odintsov.

'That's a striking figure,' he remarked. 'Not like the other females.'

After waiting till the end of the quadrille, Sitnikov led Arkady up to
Madame Odintsov; but he hardly seemed to be intimately acquainted with
her; he was embarrassed in his sentences, while she looked at him in
some surprise. But her face assumed an expression of pleasure when she
heard Arkady's surname. She asked him whether he was not the son of
Nikolai Petrovitch.

'Yes.'

'I have seen your father twice, and have heard a great deal about him,'
she went on; 'I am glad to make your acquaintance.'

At that instant some adjutant flew up to her and begged for a
quadrille. She consented.

'Do you dance then?' asked Arkady respectfully.

'Yes, I dance. Why do you suppose I don't dance? Do you think I am too
old?'

'Really, how could I possibly.... But in that case, let me ask you for
a mazurka.'

Madame Odintsov s