wling in the
foreground of the picture was a swarthy warrior in a helmet, specially
conspicuous for his rotund contours. Behind the church a long village
stretched in two rows, with chimneys peeping out here and there above
the thatched roofs. The manor-house was built in the same style as the
church, the style known among us as that of Alexander; the house too
was painted yellow, and had a green roof, and white columns, and a
pediment with an escutcheon on it. The architect had designed both
buildings with the approval of the deceased Odintsov, who could not
endure--as he expressed it--idle and arbitrary innovations. The house
was enclosed on both sides by the dark trees of an old garden; an
avenue of lopped pines led up to the entrance.

Our friends were met in the hall by two tall footmen in livery; one of
them at once ran for the steward. The steward, a stout man in a black
dress coat, promptly appeared and led the visitors by a staircase
covered with rugs to a special room, in which two bedsteads were
already prepared for them with all necessaries for the toilet. It was
clear that order reigned supreme in the house; everything was clean,
everywhere there was a peculiar delicate fragrance, just as there is in
the reception rooms of ministers.

'Anna Sergyevna asks you to come to her in half-an-hour,' the steward
announced; 'will there be orders to give meanwhile?'

'No orders,' answered Bazarov; 'perhaps you will be so good as to
trouble yourself to bring me a glass of vodka.'

'Yes, sir,' said the steward, looking in some perplexity, and he
withdrew, his boots creaking as he walked.

'What _grand genre_!' remarked Bazarov. 'That's what it's called in
your set, isn't it? She's a grand-duchess, and that's all about it.'

'A nice grand-duchess,' retorted Arkady, 'at the very first meeting she
invited such great aristocrats as you and me to stay with her.'

'Especially me, a future doctor, and a doctor's son, and a village
sexton's grandson.... You know, I suppose, I'm the grandson of a
sexton? Like the great Speransky,' added Bazarov after a brief pause,
contracting his lips. 'At any rate she likes to be comfortable; oh,
doesn't she, this lady! Oughtn't we to put on evening dress?'

Arkady only shrugged his shoulders ... but he too was conscious of a
little nervousness.

Half-an-hour later Bazarov and Arkady went together into the
drawing-room. It was a large lofty room, furnished rather luxuriously
but wit