but the cocks
crowing irritably at one another in the village, producing in every one
who heard them a strange sense of drowsiness and ennui; and somewhere,
high up in a tree-top, the incessant plaintive cheep of a young hawk.
Arkady and Bazarov lay in the shade of a small haystack, putting under
themselves two armfuls of dry and rustling, but still greenish and
fragrant grass.

'That aspen-tree,' began Bazarov, 'reminds me of my childhood; it grows
at the edge of the clay-pits where the bricks were dug, and in those
days I believed firmly that that clay-pit and aspen-tree possessed a
peculiar talismanic power; I never felt dull near them. I did not
understand then that I was not dull, because I was a child. Well, now
I'm grown up, the talisman's lost its power.'

'How long did you live here altogether?' asked Arkady.

'Two years on end; then we travelled about. We led a roving life,
wandering from town to town for the most part.'

'And has this house been standing long?'

'Yes. My grandfather built it--my mother's father.'

'Who was he--your grandfather?'

'Devil knows. Some second-major. He served with Suvorov, and was always
telling stories about the crossing of the Alps--inventions probably.'

'You have a portrait of Suvorov hanging in the drawing-room. I like
these dear little houses like yours; they're so warm and old-fashioned;
and there's always a special sort of scent about them.'

'A smell of lamp-oil and clover,' Bazarov remarked, yawning. 'And the
flies in those dear little houses.... Faugh!'

'Tell me,' began Arkady, after a brief pause, 'were they strict with
you when you were a child?'

'You can see what my parents are like. They're not a severe sort.'

'Are you fond of them, Yevgeny?'

'I am, Arkady.'

'How fond they are of you!'

Bazarov was silent for a little. 'Do you know what I'm thinking about?'
he brought out at last, clasping his hands behind his head.

'No. What is it?'

'I'm thinking life is a happy thing for my parents. My father at sixty
is fussing around, talking about "palliative" measures, doctoring
people, playing the bountiful master with the peasants--having a
festive time, in fact; and my mother's happy too; her day's so chockful
of duties of all sorts, and sighs and groans that she's no time even to
think of herself; while I ...'

'While you?'

'I think; here I lie under a haystack.... The tiny space I occupy is so
infinitely small in comparison with the rest