第 二 章 · 第2章

"Yes, but first give me a rub down, dearest Papa," said Arkady in a

voice which, though a little hoarsened with travelling, was yet clear

and youthful. "See! I am covering you with dust!" he added as joyously

he returned his father's caresses.

"Oh, but that will not matter," said Nikolai Petrovitch with a loving,

reassuring smile as he gave the collar of his son's blue cloak a

couple of pats, and then did the same by his own jacket. Thereafter,

gently withdrawing from his son's embrace, and beginning to lead the

way towards the inn yard, he added: "Come this way, come this way. The

horses will soon be ready."

His excitement seemed even to outdo his son's, so much did he stammer

and stutter, and, at times, find himself at a loss for a word. Arkady

stopped him.

"Papa," he said, "first let me introduce my good friend Bazarov, who is

the comrade whom I have so often mentioned in letters to you, and who

has been kind enough to come to us for a visit."

At once Nikolai Petrovitch wheeled round, and, approaching a tall man

who, clad in a long coat with a tasselled belt, had just alighted from

the _tarantass_, pressed the bare red hand which, after a pause, the

stranger offered him.

"I am indeed glad to see you!" was Nikolai Petrovitch's greeting, "I am

indeed grateful to you for your kindness in paying us this visit! Alas,

I hope that, that----But first might I inquire your name?"

"Evgenii Vasiliev," replied the other in slow, but virile, accents

as, turning down the collar of his coat, he revealed his face more

clearly. Long and thin, with a high forehead which looked flattened

at the top and became sharpened towards the nose, the face had large,

greenish eyes and long, sandy whiskers. The instant that the features

brightened into a smile, however, they betokened self-assurance and

intellect.

"My dearest Evgenii Vasiliev", Nikolai Petrovitch continued, "I trust

that whilst you are with us you will not find time hang heavy upon your

hands."

Bazarov gave his lips a slight twitch, but vouchsafed no reply

beyond raising his cap--a movement which revealed the fact that the

prominent convolutions of the skull were by no means concealed by the

superincumbent mass of indeterminate-coloured hair.

"Now, Arkady," went on Nikolai Petrovitch as he turned to his son,

"shall we have the horses harnessed at once, or should you prefer to

rest a little?"

"Let us rest at home, Papa. So pray have the horses put to."

"I will," his father agreed. "Peter! Bestir yourself, my good fellow!"

Being what is known as a "perfectly trained servant," Peter had neither

approached nor shaken hands with the young _barin_, but contented

himself with a distant bow. He now vanished through the yard gates.

"Though I have come in the _koliaska_," said Nikolai Petrovitch, "I

have brought three fresh horses for the _tarantass_."

Arkady then drank some water from a yellow bowl proffered by the

landlord, while Bazarov lighted a pipe, and approached the ostler, who

was engaged in unharnessing the stagehorses.

"Only two can ride in the _koliaska_," continued Nikolai Petrovitch;

"wherefore I am rather in a difficulty to know how your friend will----"

"Oh, he can travel in the _tarantass_," interrupted Arkady. "Moreover,

do not stand on any ceremony with him, for, wonderful though he is, he

is also quite simple, as you will find for yourself."

Nikolai Petrovitch's coachman brought out the horses, and Bazarov

remarked to the ostler:

"Come, bestir yourself, fat-beard!"

"Did you hear that, Mitiusha?" added another ostler who was standing

with his hands thrust into the back slits of his blouse. "The _barin_

has just called you a fat-beard. And a fat-beard you are."

For answer Mitiusha merely cocked his cap to one side and drew the

reins from the back of the sweating shafts-horse.

"Quick now, my good fellows!" cried Nikolai Petrovitch. "Bear a hand,

all of you, and for each there will be a glassful of _vodka_."

Naturally, it was not long before the horses were harnessed, and then

father and son seated themselves in the _koliaska_, Peter mounted the

box of that vehicle, and Bazarov stepped into the _tarantass_, and

lolled his head against the leather cushion at the back. Finally the

cortège moved away.