CHAPTER XXII
In silence, only rarely exchanging a few insignificant words, ourfriends travelled as far as Fedot's. Bazarov was not altogether pleasedwith himself. Arkady was displeased with him. He was feeling, too, thatcauseless melancholy which is only known to very young people. Thecoachman changed the horses, and getting up on to the box, inquired,'To the right or to the left?'
Arkady started. The road to the right led to the town, and from therehome; the road to the left led to Madame Odintsov's.
He looked at Bazarov.
'Yevgeny,' he queried; 'to the left?'
Bazarov turned away. 'What folly is this?' he muttered.
'I know it's folly,' answered Arkady.... 'But what does that matter?It's not the first time.'
Bazarov pulled his cap down over his brows. 'As you choose,' he said atlast. 'Turn to the left,' shouted Arkady.
The coach rolled away in the direction of Nikolskoe. But havingresolved on the folly, the friends were even more obstinately silentthan before, and seemed positively ill-humoured.
Directly the steward met them on the steps of Madame Odintsov's house,the friends could perceive that they had acted injudiciously in givingway so suddenly to a passing impulse. They were obviously not expected.They sat rather a long while, looking rather foolish, in thedrawing-room. Madame Odintsov came in to them at last. She greeted themwith her customary politeness, but was surprised at their hasty return;and, so far as could be judged from the deliberation of her gesturesand words, she was not over pleased at it. They made haste to announcethat they had only called on their road, and must go on farther, to thetown, within four hours. She confined herself to a light exclamation,begged Arkady to remember her to his father, and sent for her aunt. Theprincess appeared very sleepy, which gave her wrinkled old face an evenmore ill-natured expression. Katya was not well; she did not leave herroom. Arkady suddenly realised that he was at least as anxious to seeKatya as Anna Sergyevna herself. The four hours were spent ininsignificant discussion of one thing and another; Anna Sergyevna bothlistened and spoke without a smile. It was only quite at parting thather former friendliness seemed, as it were, to revive.
'I have an attack of spleen just now,' she said; 'but you must not payattention to that, and come again--I say this to both of you--beforelong.'
Both Bazarov and Arkady responded with a silent bow, took their seatsin the coach, and without stopping again anywhere, went straight hometo Maryino, where they arrived safely on the evening of the followingday. During the whole course of the journey neither one nor the othereven mentioned the name of Madame Odintsov; Bazarov, in particular,scarcely opened his mouth, and kept staring in a side direction awayfrom the road, with a kind of exasperated intensity.
At Maryino every one was exceedingly delighted to see them. Theprolonged absence of his son had begun to make Nikolai Petrovitchuneasy; he uttered a cry of joy, and bounced about on the sofa,dangling his legs, when Fenitchka ran to him with sparkling eyes, andinformed him of the arrival of the 'young gentlemen'; even PavelPetrovitch was conscious of some degree of agreeable excitement, andsmiled condescendingly as he shook hands with the returned wanderers.Talk, questions followed; Arkady talked most, especially at supper,which was prolonged long after midnight. Nikolai Petrovitch ordered upsome bottles of porter which had only just been sent from Moscow, andpartook of the festive beverage till his cheeks were crimson, and hekept laughing in a half-childish, half-nervous little chuckle. Even theservants were infected by the general gaiety. Dunyasha ran up and downlike one possessed, and was continually slamming doors; while Piotrwas, at three o'clock in the morning, still attempting to strum aCossack waltz on the guitar. The strings gave forth a sweet andplaintive sound in the still air; but with the exception of a smallpreliminary flourish, nothing came of the cultured valet's efforts;nature had given him no more musical talent than all the rest of theworld.
But meanwhile things were not going over harmoniously at Maryino, andpoor Nikolai Petrovitch was having a bad time of it. Difficulties onthe farm sprang up every day--senseless, distressing difficulties. Thetroubles with the hired labourers had become insupportable. Some askedfor their wages to be settled, or for an increase of wages, whileothers made off with the wages they had received in advance; the horsesfell sick; the harness fell to pieces as though it were burnt; the workwas carelessly done; a threshing machine that had been ordered fromMoscow turned out to be useless from its great weight, another wasruined the first time it was used; half the cattle sheds were burntdown through an old blind woman on the farm going in windy weather witha burning brand to fumigate her cow ... the old woman, it is true,maintained that the whole mischief could be traced to the master's planof introducing newfangled cheeses and milk-products. The overseersuddenly turned lazy, and began to grow fat, as every Russian grows fatwhen he gets a snug berth. When he caught sight of Nikolai Petrovitchin the distance, he would fling a stick at a passing pig, or threaten ahalf-naked urchin, to show his zeal, but the rest of the time he wasgenerally asleep. The peasants who had been put on the rent system didnot bring their money at the time due, and stole the forest-timber;almost every night the keepers caught peasants' horses in the meadowsof the 'farm,' and sometimes forcibly bore them off. Nikolai Petrovitchwould fix a money fine for damages, but the matter usually ended afterthe horses had been kept a day or two on the master's forage by theirreturning to their owners. To crown all, the peasants began quarrellingamong themselves; brothers asked for a division of property, theirwives could not get on together in one house; all of a sudden thesquabble, as though at a given signal, came to a head, and at once thewhole village came running to the counting-house steps, crawling to themaster often drunken and with battered face, demanding justice andjudgment; then arose an uproar and clamour, the shrill wailing of thewomen mixed with the curses of the men. Then one had to examine thecontending parties, and shout oneself hoarse, knowing all the whilethat one could never anyway arrive at a just decision.... There werenot hands enough for the harvest; a neighbouring small owner, with themost benevolent countenance, contracted to supply him with reapers fora commission of two roubles an acre, and cheated him in the mostshameless fashion; his peasant women demanded unheard-of sums, and thecorn meanwhile went to waste; and here they were not getting on withthe mowing, and there the Council of Guardians threatened and demandedprompt payment, in full, of interest due....
'I can do nothing!' Nikolai Petrovitch cried more than once in despair.'I can't flog them myself; and as for calling in the police captain, myprinciples don't allow of it, while you can do nothing with themwithout the fear of punishment!'
'_Du calme_, _du calme_,' Pavel Petrovitch would remark upon this, buteven he hummed to himself, knitted his brows, and tugged at hismoustache.
Bazarov held aloof from these matters, and indeed as a guest it was notfor him to meddle in other people's business. The day after his arrivalat Maryino, he set to work on his frogs, his infusoria, and hischemical experiments, and was for ever busy with them. Arkady, on thecontrary, thought it his duty, if not to help his father, at least tomake a show of being ready to help him. He gave him a patient hearing,and once offered him some advice, not with any idea of its being actedupon, but to show his interest. Farming details did not arouse anyaversion in him; he used even to dream with pleasure of work on theland, but at this time his brain was swarming with other ideas. Arkady,to his own astonishment, thought incessantly of Nikolskoe; in formerdays he would simply have shrugged his shoulders if any one had toldhim that he could ever feel dull under the same roof as Bazarov--andthat roof his father's! but he actually was dull and longed to getaway. He tried going long walks till he was tired, but that was no use.In conversation with his father one day, he found out that NikolaiPetrovitch had in his possession rather interesting letters, written byMadame Odintsov's mother to his wife, and he gave him no rest till hegot hold of the letters, for which Nikolai Petrovitch had to rummage intwenty drawers and boxes. Having gained possession of thesehalf-crumbling
papers, Arkady felt, as it were, soothed, just as thoughhe had caught a glimpse of the goal towards which he ought now to go.'I mean that for both of you,' he was constantly whispering--she hadadded that herself! 'I'll go, I'll go, hang it all!' But he recalledthe last visit, the cold reception, and his former embarrassment, andtimidity got the better of him. The 'go-ahead' feeling of youth, thesecret desire to try his luck, to prove his powers in solitude, withoutthe protection of any one whatever, gained the day at last. Before tendays had passed after his return to Maryino, on the pretext of studyingthe working of the Sunday schools, he galloped off to the town again,and from there to Nikolskoe. Urging the driver on without intermission,he flew along, like a young officer riding to battle; and he felt bothfrightened and light-hearted, and was breathless with impatience. 'Thegreat thing is--one mustn't think,' he kept repeating to himself. Hisdriver happened to be a lad of spirit; he halted before every publichouse, saying, 'A drink or not a drink?' but, to make up for it, whenhe had drunk he did not spare his horses. At last the lofty roof of thefamiliar house came in sight.... 'What am I to do?' flashed throughArkady's head. 'Well, there's no turning back now!' The three horsesgalloped in unison; the driver whooped and whistled at them. And nowthe bridge was groaning under the hoofs and wheels, and now the avenueof lopped pines seemed running to meet them.... There was a glimpse ofa woman's pink dress against the dark green, a young face from underthe light fringe of a parasol.... He recognised Katya, and sherecognised him. Arkady told the driver to stop the galloping horses,leaped out of the carriage, and went up to her. 'It's you!' she cried,gradually flushing all over; 'let us go to my sister, she's here in thegarden; she will be pleased to see you.'
Katya led Arkady into the garden. His meeting with her struck him as aparticularly happy omen; he was delighted to see her, as though shewere of his own kindred. Everything had happened so splendidly; nosteward, no formal announcement. At a turn in the path he caught sightof Anna Sergyevna. She was standing with her back to him. Hearingfootsteps, she turned slowly round.
Arkady felt confused again, but the first words she uttered soothed himat once. 'Welcome back, runaway!' she said in her even, caressingvoice, and came to meet him, smiling and frowning to keep the sun andwind out of her eyes. 'Where did you pick him up, Katya?'
'I have brought you something, Anna Sergyevna,' he began, 'which youcertainly don't expect.'
'You have brought yourself; that's better than anything.'