CHAPTER XII
The town of X---- to which our friends set off was in the jurisdictionof a governor who was a young man, and at once a progressive and adespot, as often happens with Russians. Before the end of the firstyear of his government, he had managed to quarrel not only with themarshal of nobility, a retired officer of the guards, who kept openhouse and a stud of horses, but even with his own subordinates. Thefeuds arising from this cause assumed at last such proportions that theministry in Petersburg had found it necessary to send down a trustedpersonage with a commission to investigate it all on the spot. Thechoice of the authorities fell upon Matvy Ilyitch Kolyazin, the son ofthe Kolyazin, under whose protection the brothers Kirsanov had oncefound themselves. He, too, was a 'young man'; that is to say, he hadnot long passed forty, but he was already on the high road to becominga statesman, and wore a star on each side of his breast--one, to besure, a foreign star, not of the first magnitude. Like the governor,whom he had come down to pass judgment upon, he was reckoned aprogressive; and though he was already a bigwig, he was not like themajority of bigwigs. He had the highest opinion of himself; his vanityknew no bounds, but he behaved simply, looked affable, listenedcondescendingly, and laughed so good-naturedly, that on a firstacquaintance he might even be taken for 'a jolly good fellow.' Onimportant occasions, however, he knew, as the saying is, how to makehis authority felt. 'Energy is essential,' he used to say then,'_l'energie est la premiere qualite d'un homme d'etat_;' and for allthat, he was usually taken in, and any moderately experienced officialcould turn him round his finger. Matvy Ilyitch used to speak with greatrespect of Guizot, and tried to impress every one with the idea that hedid not belong to the class of _routiniers_ and high-and-drybureaucrats, that not a single phenomenon of social life passedunnoticed by him.... All such phrases were very familiar to him. Heeven followed, with dignified indifference, it is true, the developmentof contemporary literature; so a grown-up man who meets a procession ofsmall boys in the street will sometimes walk after it. In reality,Matvy Ilyitch had not got much beyond those political men of the daysof Alexander, who used to prepare for an evening party at MadameSvyetchin's by reading a page of Condillac; only his methods weredifferent, more modern. He was an adroit courtier, a great hypocrite,and nothing more; he had no special aptitude for affairs, and nointellect, but he knew how to manage his own business successfully; noone could get the better of him there, and, to be sure, that's theprincipal thing.
Matvy Ilyitch received Arkady with the good-nature, we might even callit playfulness, characteristic of the enlightened higher official. Hewas astonished, however, when he heard that the cousins he had invitedhad remained at home in the country. 'Your father was always a queerfellow,' he remarked, playing with the tassels of his magnificentvelvet dressing-gown, and suddenly turning to a young official in adiscreetly buttoned-up uniform, he cried, with an air of concentratedattention, 'What?' The young man, whose lips were glued together fromprolonged silence, got up and looked in perplexity at his chief. But,having nonplussed his subordinate, Matvy Ilyitch paid him no furtherattention. Our higher officials are fond as a rule of nonplussing theirsubordinates; the methods to which they have recourse to attain thatend are rather various. The following means, among others, is in greatvogue, '_is quite a favourite_,' as the English say; a high officialsuddenly ceases to understand the simplest words, assuming totaldeafness. He will ask, for instance, What's to-day?'
He is respectfully informed, 'To-day's Friday, your Ex-s-s-s-lency.'
'Eh? What? What's that? What do you say?' the great man repeats withintense attention.
'To-day's Friday, your Ex--s--s--lency.'
'Eh? What? What's Friday? What Friday?'
'Friday, your Ex--s--s--s--lency, the day of the week.'
'What, do you pretend to teach me, eh?'
Matvy Ilyitch was a higher official all the same, though he wasreckoned a liberal.
'I advise you, my dear boy, to go and call on the Governor,' he said toArkady; 'you understand, I don't advise you to do so because I adhereto old-fashioned ideas of the necessity of paying respect toauthorities, but simply because the Governor's a very decent fellow;besides, you probably want to make acquaintance with the societyhere.... You're not a bear, I hope? And he's giving a great ball theday after to-morrow.'
'Will you be at the ball?' inquired Arkady.
'He gives it in my honour,' answered Matvy Ilyitch, almost pityingly.'Do you dance?'
'Yes; I dance, but not well.'
'That's a pity! There are pretty girls here, and it's a disgrace for ayoung man not to dance. Again, I don't say that through anyold-fashioned ideas; I don't in the least imagine that a man's wit liesin his feet, but Byronism is ridiculous, _il a fait son temps_.'
'But, uncle, it's not through Byronism, I ...'
'I will introduce you to the ladies here; I will take you under mywing,' interrupted Matvy Ilyitch, and he laughed complacently. 'You'llfind it warm, eh?'
A servant entered and announced the arrival of the superintendent ofthe Crown domains, a mild-eyed old man, with deep creases round hismouth, who was excessively fond of nature, especially on a summer day,when, in his words, 'every little busy bee takes a little bribe fromevery little flower.' Arkady withdrew.
He found Bazarov at the tavern where they were staying, and was a longwhile persuading him to go with him to the Governor's. 'Well, there'sno help for it,' said Bazarov at last. 'It's no good doing things byhalves. We came to look at the gentry; let's look at them!'
The Governor received the young men affably, but he did not ask them tosit down, nor did he sit down himself. He was in an everlasting fussand hurry; in the morning he used to put on a tight uniform and anexcessively stiff cravat; he never ate or drank enough; he was for evermaking arrangements. He invited Kirsanov and Bazarov to his ball, andwithin a few minutes invited them a second time, regarding them asbrothers, and calling them Kisarov.
They were on their way home from the Governor's, when suddenly a shortman, in a Slavophil national dress, leaped out of a trap that waspassing them, and crying, 'Yevgeny Vassilyitch!' dashed up to Bazarov.
'Ah! it's you, Herr Sitnikov,' observed Bazarov, still stepping alongon the pavement; 'by what chance did you come here?'
'Fancy, absolutely by chance,' he replied, and returning to the trap,he waved his hand several times, and shouted, 'Follow, follow us! Myfather had business here,' he went on, hopping across the gutter, 'andso he asked me.... I heard to-day of your arrival, and have alreadybeen to see you....' (The friends did, in fact, on returning to theirroom, find there a card, with the corners turned down, bearing the nameof Sitnikov, on one side in French, on the other in Slavoniccharacters.) 'I hope you are not coming from the Governor's?'
'It's no use to hope; we come straight from him.'
'Ah! in that case I will call on him too.... Yevgeny Vassilyitch,introduce me to your ... to the ...'
'Sitnikov, Kirsanov,' mumbled Bazarov, not stopping.
'I am greatly flattered,' began Sitnikov, walking sidewise, smirking,and hurriedly pulling off his really over-elegant gloves. 'I have heardso much.... I am an old acquaintance of Yevgeny Vassilyitch, and, I maysay--his disciple. I am indebted to him for my regeneration....'
Arkady looked at Bazarov's disciple. There was an expression ofexcitement and dulness imprinted on the small but pleasant features ofhis well-groomed face; his small eyes, that seemed squeezed in, had afixed and uneasy look, and his laugh, too, was uneasy--a sort of short,wooden laugh.
'Would you believe it,' he pursued, 'when Yevgeny Vassilyitch for thefirst time said before me that it was not right to accept anyauthorities, I felt such enthusiasm ... as though my eyes were opened!Here, I thought, at last I have found a man! By the way, YevgenyVassilyitch, you positively must come to know a lady here, who isreally capable of understanding you, and for whom your visit would be areal festival; you have heard of her, I suppose?'
'Who is it?' Bazarov brought out unwillingly.
'Kukshina, _Eudoxie_, Evdoksya Kukshin. She's a remarkable nature,_emancipee_ in the true sense of the word, an advanced woman. Do youknow what? We'll all go together to see her now. She lives only twosteps from here. We will have lunch there. I suppose you have notlunched yet?'
'No; not yet.'
'Well, that's capital. She has separated, you understand, from herhusband; she is not dependent on any one.'
'Is she pretty?' Bazarov cut in.
'N-no, one couldn't say that.'
'Then, what the devil are you asking us to see her for?'
'Fie; you must have your joke.... She will give us a bottle ofchampagne.'
'Oh, that's it. One can see the practical man at once. By the way, isyour father still in the gin business?'
'Yes,' said Sitnikov, hurriedly, and he gave a shrill spasmodic laugh.'Well? Will you come?'
'I don't really know.'
'You wanted to see people, go along,' said Arkady in an undertone.
'And what do you say to it, Mr. Kirsanov?' Sitnikov put in. 'You mustcome too; we can't go without you.'
'But how can we burst in upon her all at once?'
'That's no matter. Kukshina's a brick!'
'There will be a bottle of champagne?' asked Bazarov.
'Three!' cried Sitnikov; 'that I answer for.'
'What with?'
'My own head.'
'Your father's purse would be better. However, we are coming.'