her. Her plump little hands were instantly
twined round his neck, her head was pressed to his breast, and there
was a complete hush. The only sound heard was her broken sobs.

Old Bazarov breathed hard and screwed his eyes up more than ever.

'There, that's enough, that's enough, Arisha! give over,' he said,
exchanging a glance with Arkady, who remained motionless in the coach,
while the peasant on the box even turned his head away; 'that's not at
all necessary, please give over.'

'Ah, Vassily Ivanitch,' faltered the old woman, 'for what ages, my dear
one, my darling, Enyusha,' ... and, not unclasping her hands, she drew
her wrinkled face, wet with tears and working with tenderness, a little
away from Bazarov, and gazed at him with blissful and comic-looking
eyes, and again fell on his neck.

'Well, well, to be sure, that's all in the nature of things,' commented
Vassily Ivanitch, 'only we'd better come indoors. Here's a visitor come
with Yevgeny. You must excuse it,' he added, turning to Arkady, and
scraping with his foot; 'you understand, a woman's weakness; and well,
a mother's heart ...'

His lips and eyebrows too were twitching, and his beard was quivering
... but he was obviously trying to control himself and appear almost
indifferent.

'Let's come in, mother, really,' said Bazarov, and he led the enfeebled
old woman into the house. Putting her into a comfortable armchair, he
once more hurriedly embraced his father and introduced Arkady to him.

'Heartily glad to make your acquaintance,' said Vassily Ivanovitch,
'but you mustn't expect great things; everything here in my house is
done in a plain way, on a military footing. Arina Vlasyevna, calm
yourself, pray; what weakness! The gentleman our guest will think ill
of you.'

'My dear sir,' said the old lady through her tears, 'your name and your
father's I haven't the honour of knowing....'

'Arkady Nikolaitch,' put in Vassily Ivanitch solemnly, in a low voice.

'You must excuse a silly old woman like me.' The old woman blew her
nose, and bending her head to right and to left, carefully wiped one
eye after the other. 'You must excuse me. You see, I thought I should
die, that I should not live to see my da .. arling.'

'Well, here we have lived to see him, madam,' put in Vassily
Ivanovitch. 'Tanyushka,' he turned to a bare-legged little girl of
thirteen in a bright red cotton dress, who was timidly peeping in at
the door, 'bring your mistress a glass of