rov was remaining
where he was....

'I must ask you to look after my brother,' Nikolai Petrovitch said to
him, 'till we get another doctor from the town.'

Bazarov nodded his head without speaking. In an hour's time Pavel
Petrovitch was already lying in bed with a skilfully bandaged leg. The
whole house was alarmed; Fenitchka fainted. Nikolai Petrovitch kept
stealthily wringing his hands, while Pavel Petrovitch laughed and
joked, especially with Bazarov; he had put on a fine cambric
night-shirt, an elegant morning wrapper, and a fez, did not allow the
blinds to be drawn down, and humorously complained of the necessity of
being kept from food.

Towards night, however, he began to be feverish; his head ached. The
doctor arrived from the town. (Nikolai Petrovitch would not listen to
his brother, and indeed Bazarov himself did not wish him to; he sat the
whole day in his room, looking yellow and vindictive, and only went in
to the invalid for as brief a time as possible; twice he happened to
meet Fenitchka, but she shrank away from him with horror.) The new
doctor advised a cooling diet; he confirmed, however, Bazarov's
assertion that there was no danger. Nikolai Petrovitch told him his
brother had wounded himself by accident, to which the doctor responded,
'Hm!' but having twenty-five silver roubles slipped into his hand on
the spot, he observed, 'You don't say so! Well, it's a thing that often
happens, to be sure.'

No one in the house went to bed or undressed. Nikolai Petrovitch kept
going in to his brother on tiptoe, retreating on tiptoe again; the
latter dozed, moaned a little, told him in French, _Couchez-vous_, and
asked for drink. Nikolai Petrovitch sent Fenitchka twice to take him a
glass of lemonade; Pavel Petrovitch gazed at her intently, and drank
off the glass to the last drop. Towards morning the fever had increased
a little; there was slight delirium. At first Pavel Petrovitch uttered
incoherent words; then suddenly he opened his eyes, and seeing his
brother near his bed bending anxiously over him, he said, 'Don't you
think, Nikolai, Fenitchka has something in common with Nellie?'

'What Nellie, Pavel dear?'

'How can you ask? Princess R----. Especially in the upper part of the
face. _C'est de la meme famille._'

Nikolai Petrovitch made no answer, while inwardly he marvelled at the
persistence of old passions in man. 'It's like this when it comes to
the surface,' he thought.

'Ah, how I love that l