radish out of its bed;
that's what I've been doing of late.... But I wanted to have one more
look at what I'm giving up, at the bed where I've been planted.'

'I hope those words don't refer to me,' responded Arkady with some
emotion; 'I hope you don't think of giving me up?'

Bazarov turned an intent, almost piercing look upon him.

'Would that be such a grief to you? It strikes me _you_ have given me
up already, you look so fresh and smart.... Your affair with Anna
Sergyevna must be getting on successfully.'

'What do you mean by my affair with Anna Sergyevna?'

'Why, didn't you come here from the town on her account, chicken? By
the way, how are those Sunday schools getting on? Do you mean to tell
me you're not in love with her? Or have you already reached the stage
of discretion?'

'Yevgeny, you know I have always been open with you; I can assure you,
I will swear to you, you're making a mistake.'

'Hm! That's another story,' remarked Bazarov in an undertone. 'But you
needn't be in a taking, it's a matter of absolute indifference to me. A
sentimentalist would say, "I feel that our paths are beginning to
part," but I will simply say that we're tired of each other.'

'Yevgeny ...'

'My dear soul, there's no great harm in that. One gets tired of much
more than that in this life. And now I suppose we'd better say
good-bye, hadn't we? Ever since I've been here I've had such a
loathsome feeling, just as if I'd been reading Gogol's effusions to the
governor of Kalouga's wife. By the way, I didn't tell them to take the
horses out.'

'Upon my word, this is too much!'

'Why?'

'I'll say nothing of myself; but that would be discourteous to the last
degree to Anna Sergyevna, who will certainly wish to see you.'

'Oh, you're mistaken there.'

'On the contrary, I am certain I'm right,' retorted Arkady. 'And what
are you pretending for? If it comes to that, haven't you come here on
her account yourself?'

'That may be so, but you're mistaken any way.'

But Arkady was right. Anna Sergyevna desired to see Bazarov, and sent a
summons to him by a steward. Bazarov changed his clothes before going
to her; it turned out that he had packed his new suit so as to be able
to get it out easily.

Madame Odintsov received him not in the room where he had so
unexpectedly declared his love to her, but in the drawing-room. She
held her finger tips out to him cordially, but her face betrayed an
involuntary sense of tension.