to the hay. 'Your
present quarters remind me, my dear sirs,' he began, 'of my military
bivouacking existence, the ambulance halts, somewhere like this under a
haystack, and even for that we were thankful.' He sighed. 'I had many,
many experiences in my life. For example, if you will allow me, I will
tell you a curious episode of the plague in Bessarabia.'

'For which you got the Vladimir cross?' put in Bazarov. 'We know, we
know.... By the way, why is it you're not wearing it?'

'Why, I told you that I have no prejudices,' muttered Vassily
Ivanovitch (he had only the evening before had the red ribbon unpicked
off his coat), and he proceeded to relate the episode of the plague.
'Why, he's fallen asleep,' he whispered all at once to Arkady, pointing
to Yevgeny, and winking good-naturedly. 'Yevgeny! get up,' he went on
aloud. 'Let's go in to dinner.'

Father Alexey, a good-looking stout man with thick, carefully-combed
hair, with an embroidered girdle round his lilac silk cassock, appeared
to be a man of much tact and adaptability. He made haste to be the
first to offer his hand to Arkady and Bazarov, as though understanding
beforehand that they did not want his blessing, and he behaved himself
in general without constraint. He neither derogated from his own
dignity, nor gave offence to others; he vouchsafed a passing smile at
the seminary Latin, and stood up for his bishop; drank two small
glasses of wine, but refused a third; accepted a cigar from Arkady, but
did not proceed to smoke it, saying he would take it home with him. The
only thing not quite agreeable about him was a way he had of constantly
raising his hand with care and deliberation to catch the flies on his
face, sometimes succeeding in smashing them. He took his seat at the
green table, expressing his satisfaction at so doing in measured terms,
and ended by winning from Bazarov two roubles and a half in paper
money; they had no idea of even reckoning in silver in the house of
Arina Vlasyevna.... She was sitting, as before, near her son (she did
not play cards), her cheek, as before, propped on her little fist; she
only got up to order some new dainty to be served. She was afraid to
caress Bazarov, and he gave her no encouragement, he did not invite her
caresses; and besides, Vassily Ivanovitch had advised her not to
'worry' him too much. 'Young men are not fond of that sort of thing,'
he declared to her. (It's needless to say what the dinner was like that