the heat of the
sun; 'charming little feet you call them.... Well, he shall be at
them.'

But all at once a feeling of shame came upon her, and she ran swiftly
upstairs.

Arkady had gone along the corridor to his room; a steward had overtaken
him, and announced that Mr. Bazarov was in his room.

'Yevgeny!' murmured Arkady, almost with dismay; 'has he been here
long?'

'Mr. Bazarov arrived this minute, sir, and gave orders not to announce
him to Anna Sergyevna, but to show him straight up to you.'

'Can any misfortune have happened at home?' thought Arkady, and running
hurriedly up the stairs, he at once opened the door. The sight of
Bazarov at once reassured him, though a more experienced eye might very
probably have discerned signs of inward agitation in the sunken, though
still energetic face of the unexpected visitor. With a dusty cloak over
his shoulders, with a cap on his head, he was sitting at the window; he
did not even get up when Arkady flung himself with noisy exclamations
on his neck.

'This is unexpected! What good luck brought you?' he kept repeating,
bustling about the room like one who both imagines himself and wishes
to show himself delighted. 'I suppose everything's all right at home;
every one's well, eh?'

'Everything's all right, but not every one's well,' said Bazarov.
'Don't be a chatterbox, but send for some kvass for me, sit down, and
listen while I tell you all about it in a few, but, I hope, pretty
vigorous sentences.'

Arkady was quiet while Bazarov described his duel with Pavel
Petrovitch. Arkady was very much surprised, and even grieved, but he
did not think it necessary to show this; he only asked whether his
uncle's wound was really not serious; and on receiving the reply that
it was most interesting, but not from a medical point of view, he gave
a forced smile, but at heart he felt both wounded and as it were
ashamed. Bazarov seemed to understand him.

'Yes, my dear fellow,' he commented, 'you see what comes of living with
feudal personages. You turn a feudal personage yourself, and find
yourself taking part in knightly tournaments. Well, so I set off for my
father's,' Bazarov wound up, 'and I've turned in here on the way ... to
tell you all this, I should say, if I didn't think a useless lie a
piece of foolery. No, I turned in here--the devil only knows why. You
see, it's sometimes a good thing for a man to take himself by the
scruff of the neck and pull himself up, like a