Let it rather depend on me.
No, my dear fellow, that’s all emptiness and loose living.
And what are these mysterious relations between a man and a woman?
We physiologists know what they are.
You study the anatomy of the eye; and where does it come in, that enigmatic look you talk about?
That’s all romanticism, rubbish, and moldy ?sthetics.
We had much better go and examine the beetle.”
And the two friends went off to Bazarov’s room, which was already pervaded by a kind of medical surgical smell, mixed with the reek of cheap tobacco.
Chapter 8
Pavel Petrovich did not stay long at his brother’s interview with the bailiff, a tall, thin man with the soft voice of a consumptive and cunning eyes, who to all Nikolai Petrovich’s remarks answered,
“Indeed, certainly, sir,” and tried to show up the peasants as thieves and drunkards.
The estate had only just started to be run on the new system, whose mechanism still creaked like an ungreased wheel and cracked in places like homemade furniture of raw, unseasoned wood.
Nikolai Petrovich did not lose heart but he often sighed and felt discouraged; he realized that things could not be improved without more money, and his money was almost all spent.
Arkady had spoken the truth; Pavel Petrovich had helped his brother more than once; several times, seeing him perplexed, racking his brains, not knowing which way to turn, Pavel Petrovich had moved towards the window, and with his hands thrust into his pockets had muttered between his teeth,
“Mais je puis vous donner de l’argent,” and gave him money; but today he had none left himself and he preferred to go away.
The petty disputes of agricultural management wearied him; besides, he could not help feeling that Nikolai Petrovich, with all his zeal and hard work, did not set about things in the right way, although he could not point out exactly what were his brother’s mistakes.
“My brother is not practical enough,” he would say to himself; “they cheat him.”
On the other hand, Nikolai Petrovich had the highest opinion of Pavel Petrovich’s practical capacity and was always asking for his advice.
“I’m a mild, weak person, I’ve spent my life in the depths of the country,” he used to say, “while you haven’t seen so much of the world for nothing; you understand people, you see through them with an eagle’s eye.”
In answer to such words, Pavel Petrovich only turned aside but did not contradict his brother.
Leaving Nikolai Petrovich in the study, he walked along the corridor which separated the front portion of the house from the back; on reaching a low door he stopped and hesitated for a moment, then, pulling at his mustache, he knocked on it.
“Who is there?
Come in,” called out Fenichka’s voice.
“It is me,” said Pavel Petrovich, and opened the door.
Fenichka jumped up from the chair on which she was sitting with her baby, and putting him into the arms of a girl who at once carried him out of the room, she hastily straightened her kerchief.
“Excuse me for disturbing you,” began Pavel Petrovich without looking at her; “I only wanted to ask you . . . as they are sending into the town today . . . to see that they buy some green tea for me.”
“Certainly,” answered Fenichka, “how much tea do you want?”
“Oh, half a pound will be enough, I should think.
I see you have made some changes here,” he added, casting a rapid look around and at Fenichka’s face. “Those curtains,” he went on, seeing that she did not understand him.
“Oh, yes, the curtains; Nikolai Petrovich kindly gave them to me, but they’ve been hung up for quite a long time.”
“Yes, and I haven’t been to see you for a long time.
Now it is all very nice here.”
“Thanks to Nikolai Petrovich’s kindness,” murmured Fenichka.
“You are more comfortable here than in the little side-wing where you used to be?” inquired Pavel Petrovich politely but without any trace of a smile.
“Certainly, it is better here.”
“Who has been put in your place now?”
“The laundrymaids are there now.”
“Ah!”
Pavel Petrovich was silent.
“Now he will go,” thought Fenichka; but he did not go and she stood in front of him rooted to the spot, moving her fingers nervously.
“Why did you send your little one away?” said Pavel Petrovich at last. “I love children; do let me see him.”
Fenichka blushed all over with confusion and joy.
She was frightened of Pavel Petrovich; he hardly ever spoke to her.
“Dunyasha,” she called. “Will you bring Mitya, please?” (Fenichka was polite to every member of the household.)
“But wait a moment; he must have a frock on.”
Fenichka was going towards the door.
“That doesn’t matter,” remarked Pavel Petrovich.
“I shall be back in a moment,” answered Fenichka, and she went out quickly.
Pavel Petrovich was left alone and this time he looked round with special attention.
The small, low room in which he found himself was very clean and cosy.