CHAPTER XXIV
Two hours later he knocked at Bazarov's door.
'I must apologise for hindering you in your scientific pursuits,' hebegan, seating himself on a chair in the window, and leaning with bothhands on a handsome walking-stick with an ivory knob (he usually walkedwithout a stick), 'but I am constrained to beg you to spare me fiveminutes of your time ... no more.'
'All my time is at your disposal,' answered Bazarov, over whose facethere passed a quick change of expression directly Pavel Petrovitchcrossed the threshold.
'Five minutes will be enough for me. I have come to put a singlequestion to you.'
'A question? What is it about?'
'I will tell you, if you will kindly hear me out. At the commencementof your stay in my brother's house, before I had renounced the pleasureof conversing with you, it was my fortune to hear your opinions on manysubjects; but so far as my memory serves, neither between us, nor in mypresence, was the subject of single combats and duelling in generalbroached. Allow me to hear what are your views on that subject?'
Bazarov, who had risen to meet Pavel Petrovitch, sat down on the edgeof the table and folded his arms.
'My view is,' he said, 'that from the theoretical standpoint, duellingis absurd; from the practical standpoint, now--it's quite a differentmatter.'
'That is, you mean to say, if I understand you right, that whateveryour theoretical views on duelling, you would not in practice allowyourself to be insulted without demanding satisfaction?'
'You have guessed my meaning absolutely.'
'Very good. I am very glad to hear you say so. Your words relieve mefrom a state of incertitude.'
'Of uncertainty, you mean to say.'
'That is all the same! I express myself so as to be understood; I ...am not a seminary rat. Your words save me from a rather deplorablenecessity. I have made up my mind to fight you.'
Bazarov opened his eyes wide. 'Me?'
'Undoubtedly.'
'But what for, pray?'
'I could explain the reason to you,' began Pavel Petrovitch, 'but Iprefer to be silent about it. To my idea your presence here issuperfluous; I cannot endure you; I despise you; and if that is notenough for you ...'
Pavel Petrovitch's eyes glittered ... Bazarov's too were flashing.
'Very good,' he assented. 'No need of further explanations. You've awhim to try your chivalrous spirit upon me. I might refuse you thispleasure, but--so be it!'
'I am sensible of my obligation to you,' replied Pavel Petrovitch; 'andmay reckon then on your accepting my challenge without compelling me toresort to violent measures.'
'That means, speaking without metaphor, to that stick?' Bazarovremarked coolly. 'That is precisely correct. It's quite unnecessary foryou to insult me. Indeed, it would not be a perfectly safe proceeding.You can remain a gentleman.... I accept your challenge, too, like agentleman.'
'That is excellent,' observed Pavel Petrovitch, putting his stick inthe corner. 'We will say a few words directly about the conditions ofour duel; but I should like first to know whether you think itnecessary to resort to the formality of a trifling dispute, which mightserve as a pretext for my challenge?'
'No; it's better without formalities.'
'I think so myself. I presume it is also out of place to go into thereal grounds of our difference. We cannot endure one another. What moreis necessary?'
'What more, indeed?' repeated Bazarov ironically.
'As regards the conditions of the meeting itself, seeing that we shallhave no seconds--for where could we get them?'
'Exactly so; where could we get them?'
'Then I have the honour to lay the following proposition before you:The combat to take place early to-morrow, at six, let us say, behindthe copse, with pistols, at a distance of ten paces....'
'At ten paces? that will do; we hate one another at that distance.'
'We might have it eight,' remarked Pavel Petrovitch.
'We might.'
'To fire twice; and, to be ready for any result, let each put a letterin his pocket, in which he accuses himself of his end.'
'Now, that I don't approve of at all,' observed Bazarov. 'There's aslight flavour of the French novel about it, something not veryplausible.'
'Perhaps. You will agree, however, that it would be unpleasant to incura suspicion of murder?'
'I agree as to that. But there is a means of avoiding that painfulreproach. We shall have no seconds, but we can have a witness.'
'And whom, allow me to inquire?'
'Why, Piotr.'
'What Piotr?'
'Your brother's valet. He's a man who has attained to the acme ofcontemporary culture, and he will perform his part with all the_comilfo_ (_comme il faut_) necessary in such cases.'
'I think you are joking, sir.'
'Not at all. If you think over my suggestion, you will be convincedthat it's full of common-sense and simplicity. You can't hide a candleunder a bushel; but I'll undertake to prepare Piotr in a fittingmanner, and bring him on to the field of battle.'
'You persist in jesting still,' Pavel Petrovitch declared, getting upfrom his chair. 'But after the courteous readiness you have shown me, Ihave no right to pretend to lay down.... And so, everything isarranged.... By the way, perhaps you have no pistols?'
'How should I have pistols, Pavel Petrovitch? I'm not in the army.'
'In that case, I offer you mine. You may rest assured that it's fiveyears now since I shot with them.'
'That's a very consoling piece of news.'
Pavel Petrovitch took up his stick.... 'And now, my dear sir, it onlyremains for me to thank you and to leave you to your studies. I havethe honour to take leave of you.'
'Till we have the pleasure of meeting again, my dear sir,' saidBazarov, conducting his visitor to the door.
Pavel Petrovitch went out, while Bazarov remained standing a minutebefore the door, and suddenly exclaimed, 'Pish, well, I'm dashed! howfine, and how foolish! A pretty farce we've been through! Like traineddogs dancing on their hind-paws. But to decline was out of thequestion; why, I do believe he'd have struck me, and then ...' (Bazarovturned white at the very thought; all his pride was up in arms atonce)--'then it might have come to my strangling him like a cat.' Hewent back to his microscope, but his heart was beating, and thecomposure necessary for taking observations had disappeared. 'He caughtsight of us to-day,' he thought; 'but would he really act like this onhis brother's account? And what a mighty matter is it--a kiss? Theremust be something else in it. Bah! isn't he perhaps in love with herhimself? To be sure, he's in love; it's as clear as day. What acomplication! It's a nuisance!' he decided at last; 'it's a bad job,look at it which way you will. In the first place, to risk a bulletthrough one's brains, and in any case to go away; and then Arkady ...and that dear innocent pussy, Nikolai Petrovitch. It's a bad job, anawfully bad job.'
The day passed in a kind of peculiar stillness and languor. Fenitchkagave no sign of her existence; she sat in her little room like a mousein its hole. Nikolai Petrovitch had a careworn air. He had just heardthat blight had begun to appear in his wheat, upon which he had inparticular rested his hopes. Pavel Petrovitch overwhelmed every one,even Prokofitch, with his icy courtesy. Bazarov began a letter to hisfather, but tore it up, and threw it under the table.
'If I die,' he thought, 'they will find it out; but I'm not going todie. No, I shall struggle along in this world a good while yet.' Hegave Piotr orders to come to him on important business the next morningdirectly it was light. Piotr imagined that he wanted to take him toPetersburg with him. Bazarov went late to bed, and all night long hewas harassed by disordered dreams.... Madame Odintsov kept appearing inthem, now she was his mother, and she was followed by a kitten withblack whiskers, and this kitten seemed to be Fenitchka; then PavelPetrovitch took the shape of a great wood, with which he had yet tofight. Piotr waked him up at four o'clock; he dressed at once, and wentout with him.
It was a lovely, fresh morning; tiny flecked clouds hover
ed overhead inlittle curls of foam on the pale clear blue; a fine dew lay in drops onthe leaves and grass, and sparkled like silver on the spiders' webs;the damp, dark earth seemed still to keep traces of the rosy dawn; fromthe whole sky the songs of larks came pouring in showers. Bazarovwalked as far as the copse, sat down in the shade at its edge, and onlythen disclosed to Piotr the nature of the service he expected of him.The refined valet was mortally alarmed; but Bazarov soothed him by theassurance that he would have nothing to do but stand at a distance andlook on, and that he would not incur any sort of responsibility. 'Andmeantime,' he added, 'only think what an important part you have toplay!' Piotr threw up his hands, looked down, and leaned against abirch-tree, looking green with terror.
The road from Maryino skirted the copse; a light dust lay on it,untouched by wheel or foot since the previous day. Bazarovunconsciously stared along this road, picked and gnawed a blade ofgrass, while he kept repeating to himself, 'What a piece of foolery!'The chill of the early morning made him shiver twice.... Piotr lookedat him dejectedly, but Bazarov only smiled; he was not afraid.
The tramp of horses' hoofs was heard along the road.... A peasant cameinto sight from behind the trees. He was driving before him two horseshobbled together, and as he passed Bazarov he looked at him ratherstrangely, without touching his cap, which it was easy to see disturbedPiotr, as an unlucky omen. 'There's some one else up early too,'thought Bazarov; 'but he at least has got up for work, while we ...'
'Fancy the gentleman's coming,' Piotr faltered suddenly.
Bazarov raised his head and saw Pavel Petrovitch. Dressed in a lightcheck jacket and snow-white trousers, he was walking rapidly along theroad; under his arm he carried a box wrapped up in green cloth.
'I beg your pardon, I believe I have kept you waiting,' he observed,bowing first to Bazarov, then to Piotr, whom he treated respectfully atthat instant, as representing something in the nature of a second. 'Iwas unwilling to wake my man.'
'It doesn't matter,' answered Bazarov; 'we've only just arrivedourselves.'
'Ah! so much the better!' Pavel Petrovitch took a look round. 'There'sno one in sight; no one hinders us. We can proceed?'
'Let us proceed.'
'You do not, I presume, desire any fresh explanations?'
'No, I don't.'
'Would you like to load?' inquired Pavel Petrovitch, taking the pistolsout of the box.
'No; you load, and I will measure out the paces. My legs are longer,'added Bazarov with a smile. 'One, two, three.'
'Yevgeny Vassilyevitch,' Piotr faltered with an effort (he shaking asthough he were in a fever), 'say what you like, I am going fartheroff.'
'Four ... five.... Good. Move away, my good fellow, move away; you mayget behind a tree even, and stop up your ears, only don't shut youreyes; and if any one falls, run and pick him up. Six ... seven ...eight....' Bazarov stopped. 'Is that enough?' he said, turning to PavelPetrovitch; 'or shall I add two paces more?'
'As you like,' replied the latter, pressing down the second bullet.
'Well, we'll make it two paces more.' Bazarov drew a line on the groundwith the toe of his boot. 'There's the barrier then. By the way, howmany paces may each of us go back from the barrier? That's an importantquestion too. That point was not discussed yesterday.'
'I imagine, ten,' replied Pavel Petrovitch, handing Bazarov bothpistols. 'Will you be so good as to choose?'
'I will be so good. But, Pavel Petrovitch, you must admit our combat issingular to the point of absurdity. Only look at the countenance of oursecond.'
'You are disposed to laugh at everything,' answered Pavel Petrovitch.'I acknowledge the strangeness of our duel, but I think it my duty towarn you that I intend to fight seriously. _A bon entendeur, salut!_'
'Oh! I don't doubt that we've made up our minds to make away with eachother; but why not laugh too and unite _utile dulci_? You talk to me inFrench, while I talk to you in Latin.'
'I am going to fight in earnest,' repeated Pavel Petrovitch, and hewalked off to his place. Bazarov on his side counted off ten paces fromthe barrier, and stood still.
'Are you ready?' asked Pavel Petrovitch.
'Perfectly.'
'We can approach one another.'
Bazarov moved slowly forward, and Pavel Petrovitch, his left handthrust in his pocket, walked towards him, gradually raising the muzzleof his pistol.... 'He's aiming straight at my nose,' thought Bazarov,'and doesn't he blink down it carefully, the ruffian! Not an agreeablesensation though. I'm going to look at his watch chain.'
Something whizzed sharply by his very ear, and at the same instantthere was the sound of a shot. 'I heard it, so it must be all right,'had time to flash through Bazarov's brain. He took one more step, andwithout taking aim, pressed the spring.
Pavel Petrovitch gave a slight start, and clutched at his thigh. Astream of blood began to trickle down his white trousers.
Bazarov flung aside the pistol, and went up to his antagonist. 'Are youwounded?' he said.
'You had the right to call me up to the barrier,' said PavelPetrovitch, 'but that's of no consequence. According to our agreement,each of us has the right to one more shot.'
'All right, but, excuse me, that'll do another time,' answered Bazarov,catching hold of Pavel Petrovitch, who was beginning to turn pale.'Now, I'm not a duellist, but a doctor, and I must have a look at yourwound before anything else. Piotr! come here, Piotr! where have you gotto?'
'That's all nonsense.... I need no one's aid,' Pavel Petrovitchdeclared jerkily, 'and ... we must ... again ...' He tried to pull athis moustaches, but his hand failed him, his eyes grew dim, and he lostconsciousness.
'Here's a pretty pass! A fainting fit! What next!' Bazarov criedunconsciously, as he laid Pavel Petrovitch on the grass. 'Let's have alook what's wrong.' He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped away the blood,and began feeling round the wound.... 'The bone's not touched,' hemuttered through his teeth; 'the ball didn't go deep; one muscle,_vastus externus_, grazed. He'll be dancing about in three weeks!...And to faint! Oh, these nervous people, how I hate them! My word, whata delicate skin!'
'Is he killed?' the quaking voice of Piotr came rustling behind hisback.
Bazarov looked round. 'Go for some water as quick as you can, my goodfellow, and he'll outlive us yet.'
But the modern servant seemed not to understand his words, and he didnot stir. Pavel Petrovitch slowly opened his eyes. 'He will die!'whispered Piotr, and he began crossing himself.
'You are right ... What an imbecile countenance!' remarked the woundedgentleman with a forced smile.
'Well, go for the water, damn you!' shouted Bazarov.
'No need.... It was a momentary _vertigo_.... Help me to sit up ...there, that's right.... I only need something to bind up this scratch,and I can reach home on foot, or you can send a droshky for me. Theduel, if you are willing, shall not be renewed. You have behavedhonourably ... to-day, to-day--observe.'
'There's no need to recall the past,' rejoined Bazarov; 'and as regardsthe future, it's not worth while for you to trouble your head aboutthat either, for I intend being off without delay. Let me bind up yourleg now; your wound's not serious, but it's always best to stopbleeding. But first I must bring this corpse to his senses.'
Bazarov shook Piotr by the collar, and sent him for a droshky.
'Mind you don't frighten my brother,' Pavel Petrovitch said to him;'don't dream of informing him.'
Piotr flew off; and while he was running for a droshky, the twoantagonists sat on the ground and said nothing. Pavel Petrovitch triednot to look at Bazarov; he did not want to be reconciled to him in anycase; he was ashamed of his own haughtiness, of his failure; he wasashamed of the whole position he had brought about, even while he feltit could not have ended in a more favourable manner. 'At any rate,there will be no scandal,' he consoled himself by reflecting, 'and forthat I am thankful.' The silence was prolonged, a silence distressingand awkward. Both of them were ill at ease. Each was conscious that theother understood him. T
hat is pleasant to friends, and always veryunpleasant to those who are not friends, especially when it isimpossible either to have things out or to separate.
'Haven't I bound up your leg too tight?' inquired Bazarov at last.
'No, not at all; it's capital,' answered Pavel Petrovitch; and after abrief pause, he added, 'There's no deceiving my brother; we shall haveto tell him we quarrelled over politics.'
'Very good,' assented Bazarov. 'You can say I insulted allanglomaniacs.'
'That will do capitally. What do you imagine that man thinks of usnow?' continued Pavel Petrovitch, pointing to the same peasant, who haddriven the hobbled horses past Bazarov a few minutes before the duel,and going back again along the road, took off his cap at the sight ofthe 'gentlefolk.'
'Who can tell!' answered Bazarov; 'it's quite likely he thinks nothing.The Russian peasant is that mysterious unknown about whom Mrs.Radcliffe used to talk so much. Who is to understand him! He doesn'tunderstand himself!'
'Ah! so that's your idea!' Pavel Petrovitch began; and suddenly hecried, 'Look what your fool of a Piotr has done! Here's my brothergalloping up to us!'
Bazarov turned round and saw the pale face of Nikolai Petrovitch, whowas sitting in the droshky. He jumped out of it before it had stopped,and rushed up to his brother.
'What does this mean?' he said in an agitated voice. 'YevgenyVassilyitch, pray, what is this?'
'Nothing,' answered Pavel Petrovitch; 'they have alarmed you fornothing. I had a little dispute with Mr. Bazarov, and I have had to payfor it a little.'
'But what was it all about, mercy on us!'
'How can I tell you? Mr. Bazarov alluded disrespectfully to Sir RobertPeel. I must hasten to add that I am the only person to blame in allthis, while Mr. Bazarov has behaved most honourably. I called him out.'
'But you're covered with blood, good Heavens!'
'Well, did you suppose I had water in my veins? But this blood-lettingis positively beneficial to me. Isn't that so, doctor? Help me to getinto the droshky, and don't give way to melancholy. I shall be quitewell to-morrow. That's it; capital. Drive on, coachman.'
Nikolai Petrovitch walked after the droshky; Bazarov was remainingwhere he was....
'I must ask you to look after my brother,' Nikolai Petrovitch said tohim, 'till we get another doctor from the town.'
Bazarov nodded his head without speaking. In an hour's time PavelPetrovitch was already lying in bed with a skilfully bandaged leg. Thewhole house was alarmed; Fenitchka fainted. Nikolai Petrovitch keptstealthily wringing his hands, while Pavel Petrovitch laughed andjoked, especially with Bazarov; he had put on a fine cambricnight-shirt, an elegant morning wrapper, and a fez, did not allow theblinds to be drawn down, and humorously complained of the necessity ofbeing kept from food.
Towards night, however, he began to be feverish; his head ached. Thedoctor arrived from the town. (Nikolai Petrovitch would not listen tohis brother, and indeed Bazarov himself did not wish him to; he sat thewhole day in his room, looking yellow and vindictive, and only went into the invalid for as brief a time as possible; twice he happened tomeet Fenitchka, but she shrank away from him with horror.) The newdoctor advised a cooling diet; he confirmed, however, Bazarov'sassertion that there was no danger. Nikolai Petrovitch told him hisbrother had wounded himself by accident, to which the doctor responded,'Hm!' but having twenty-five silver roubles slipped into his hand onthe spot, he observed, 'You don't say so! Well, it's a thing that oftenhappens, to be sure.'
No one in the house went to bed or undressed. Nikolai Petrovitch keptgoing in to his brother on tiptoe, retreating on tiptoe again; thelatter dozed, moaned a little, told him in French, _Couchez-vous_, andasked for drink. Nikolai Petrovitch sent Fenitchka twice to take him aglass of lemonade; Pavel Petrovitch gazed at her intently, and drankoff the glass to the last drop. Towards morning the fever had increaseda little; there was slight delirium. At first Pavel Petrovitch utteredincoherent words; then suddenly he opened his eyes, and seeing hisbrother near his bed bending anxiously over him, he said, 'Don't youthink, Nikolai, Fenitchka has something in common with Nellie?'
'What Nellie, Pavel dear?'
'How can you ask? Princess R----. Especially in the upper part of theface. _C'est de la meme famille._'
Nikolai Petrovitch made no answer, while inwardly he marvelled at thepersistence of old passions in man. 'It's like this when it comes tothe surface,' he thought.
'Ah, how I love that light-headed creature!' moaned Pavel Petrovitch,clasping his hands mournfully behind his head. 'I can't bear anyinsolent upstart to dare to touch ...' he whispered a few minuteslater.
Nikolai Petrovitch only sighed; he did not even suspect to whom thesewords referred.
Bazarov presented himself before him at eight o'clock the next day. Hehad already had time to pack, and to set free all his frogs, insects,and birds.
'You have come to say good-bye to me?' said Nikolai Petrovitch, gettingup to meet him.
'Yes.'
'I understand you, and approve of you fully. My poor brother, ofcourse, is to blame; and he is punished for it. He told me himself thathe made it impossible for you to act otherwise. I believe that youcould not avoid this duel, which ... which to some extent is explainedby the almost constant antagonism of your respective views.' (NikolaiPetrovitch began to get a little mixed up in his words.) 'My brother isa man of the old school, hot-tempered and obstinate.... Thank God thatit has ended as it has. I have taken every precaution to avoidpublicity.'
'I'm leaving you my address, in case there's any fuss,' Bazarovremarked casually.
'I hope there will be no fuss, Yevgeny Vassilyitch.... I am very sorryyour stay in my house should have such a ... such an end. It is themore distressing to me through Arkady's ...'
'I shall be seeing him, I expect,' replied Bazarov, in whom'explanations' and 'protestations' of every sort always aroused afeeling of impatience; 'in case I don't, I beg you to say good-bye tohim for me, and accept the expression of my regret.'
'And I beg ...' answered Nikolai Petrovitch. But Bazarov went offwithout waiting for the end of his sentence.
When he heard of Bazarov's going, Pavel Petrovitch expressed a desireto see him, and shook his hand. But even then he remained as cold asice; he realised that Pavel Petrovitch wanted to play the magnanimous.He did not succeed in saying good-bye to Fenitchka; he only exchangedglances with her at the window. Her face struck him as lookingdejected. 'She'll come to grief, perhaps,' he said to himself.... 'Butwho knows? she'll pull through somehow, I dare say!' Piotr, however,was so overcome that he wept on his shoulder, till Bazarov damped himby asking if he'd a constant supply laid on in his eyes; while Dunyashawas obliged to run away into the wood to hide her emotion. Theoriginator of all this woe got into a light cart, smoked a cigar, andwhen at the third mile, at the bend in the road, the Kirsanovs' farm,with its new house, could be seen in a long line, he merely spat, andmuttering, 'Cursed snobs!' wrapped himself closer in his cloak.
Pavel Petrovitch was soon better; but he had to keep his bed about aweek. He bore his captivity, as he called it, pretty patiently, thoughhe took great pains over his toilette, and had everything scented witheau-de-cologne. Nikolai Petrovitch used to read him the journals;Fenitchka waited on him as before, brought him lemonade, soup, boiledeggs, and tea; but she was overcome with secret dread whenever she wentinto his room. Pavel Petrovitch's unexpected action had alarmed everyone in the house, and her more than any one; Prokofitch was the onlyperson not agitated by it; he discoursed upon how gentlemen in his dayused to fight, but only with real gentlemen; low curs like that theyused to order a horsewhipping in the stable for their insolence.
Fenitchka's conscience scarcely reproached her; but she was tormentedat times by the thought of the real cause of the quarrel; and PavelPetrovitch too looked at her so strangely ... that even when her backwas turned, she felt his eyes upon her. She grew thinner from constantinward agitation, and, as is always the way, became still morecharming.
One day--t
he incident took place in the morning--Pavel Petrovitch feltbetter and moved from his bed to the sofa, while Nikolai Petrovitch,having satisfied himself he was better, went off to thethreshing-floor. Fenitchka brought him a cup of tea, and setting itdown on a little table, was about to withdraw. Pavel Petrovitchdetained her.
'Where are you going in such a hurry, Fedosya Nikolaevna?' he began;'are you busy?'
'... I have to pour out tea.'
'Dunyasha will do that without you; sit a little while with a poorinvalid. By the way, I must have a little talk with you.'
Fenitchka sat down on the edge of an easy-chair, without speaking.
'Listen,' said Pavel Petrovitch, tugging at his moustaches; 'I havelong wanted to ask you something; you seem somehow afraid of me?'
'I?'
'Yes, you. You never look at me, as though your conscience were not atrest.'
Fenitchka crimsoned, but looked at Pavel Petrovitch. He impressed heras looking strange, and her heart began throbbing slowly.
'Is your conscience at rest?' he questioned her.
'Why should it not be at rest?' she faltered.
'Goodness knows why! Besides, whom can you have wronged? Me? That isnot likely. Any other people in the house here? That, too, is somethingincredible. Can it be my brother? But you love him, don't you?'
'I love him.'
'With your whole soul, with your whole heart?'
'I love Nikolai Petrovitch with my whole heart.'
'Truly? Look at me, Fenitchka.' (It was the first time he had calledher that name.) 'You know, it's a great sin telling lies!'
'I am not telling lies, Pavel Petrovitch. Not love NikolaiPetrovitch--I shouldn't care to live after that.'
'And will you never give him up for any one?'
'For whom could I give him up?'
'For whom indeed! Well, how about that gentleman who has just gone awayfrom here?'
Fenitchka got up. 'My God, Pavel Petrovitch, what are you torturing mefor? What have I done to you? How can such things be said?'...
'Fenitchka,' said Pavel Petrovitch, in a sorrowful voice, 'you know Isaw ...'
'What did you see?'
'Well, there ... in the arbour.'
Fenitchka crimsoned to her hair and to her ears. 'How was I to blamefor that?' she articulated with an effort.
Pavel Petrovitch raised himself up. 'You were not to blame? No? Not atall?'
'I love Nikolai Petrovitch, and no one else in the world, and I shallalways love him!' cried Fenitchka with sudden force, while her throatseemed fairly breaking with sobs. 'As for what you saw, at the dreadfulday of judgment I will say I'm not to blame, and wasn't to blame forit, and I would rather die at once if people can suspect me of such athing against my benefactor, Nikolai Petrovitch.'
But here her voice broke, and at the same time she felt that PavelPetrovitch was snatching and pressing her hand.... She looked at him,and was fairly petrified. He had turned even paler than before; hiseyes were shining, and what was most marvellous of all, one largesolitary tear was rolling down his cheek.
'Fenitchka!' he was saying in a strange whisper; 'love him, love mybrother! Don't give him up for any one in the world; don't listen toany one else! Think what can be more terrible than to love and not beloved! Never leave my poor Nikolai!'
Fenitchka's eyes were dry, and her terror had passed away, so great washer amazement. But what were her feelings when Pavel Petrovitch, PavelPetrovitch himself, put her hand to his lips and seemed to pierce intoit without kissing it, and only heaving convulsive sighs from time totime....
'Goodness,' she thought, 'isn't it some attack coming on him?'...
At that instant his whole ruined life was stirred up within him.
The staircase creaked under rapidly approaching footsteps.... He pushedher away from him, and let his head drop back on the pillow. The dooropened, and Nikolai Petrovitch entered, cheerful, fresh, and ruddy.Mitya, as fresh and ruddy as his father, in nothing but his littleshirt, was frisking on his shoulder, catching the big buttons of hisrough country coat with his little bare toes.
Fenitchka simply flung herself upon him, and clasping him and her sontogether in her arms, dropped her head on his shoulder. NikolaiPetrovitch was surprised; Fenitchka, the reserved and staid Fenitchka,had never given him a caress in the presence of a third person.
'What's the matter?' he said, and, glancing at his brother, he gave herMitya. 'You don't feel worse?' he inquired, going up to PavelPetrovitch.
He buried his face in a cambric handkerchief. 'No ... not at all ... onthe contrary, I am much better.'
'You were in too great a hurry to move on to the sofa. Where are yougoing?' added Nikolai Petrovitch, turning round to Fenitchka; but shehad already closed the door behind her. 'I was bringing in my younghero to show you, he's been crying for his uncle. Why has she carriedhim off? What's wrong with you, though? Has anything passed betweenyou, eh?'
'Brother!' said Pavel Petrovitch solemnly.
Nikolai Petrovitch started. He felt dismayed, he could not have saidwhy himself.
'Brother,' repeated Pavel Petrovitch, 'give me your word that you willcarry out my one request.'
'What request? Tell me.'
'It is very important; the whole happiness of your life, to my idea,depends on it. I have been thinking a great deal all this time overwhat I want to say to you now.... Brother, do your duty, the duty of anhonest and generous man; put an end to the scandal and bad example youare setting--you, the best of men!'
'What do you mean, Pavel?'
'Marry Fenitchka.... She loves you; she is the mother of your son.'
Nikolai Petrovitch stepped back a pace, and flung up his hands. 'Do yousay that, Pavel? you whom I have always regarded as the most determinedopponent of such marriages! You say that? Don't you know that it hassimply been out of respect for you that I have not done what you sorightly call my duty?'
'You were wrong to respect me in that case,' Pavel Petrovitchresponded, with a weary smile. 'I begin to think Bazarov was right inaccusing me of snobbishness. No dear brother, don't let us worryourselves about appearances and the world's opinion any more; we areold folks and humble now; it's time we laid aside vanity of all kinds.Let us, just as you say, do our duty; and mind, we shall get happinessthat way into the bargain.'
Nikolai Petrovitch rushed to embrace his brother.
'You have opened my eyes completely!' he cried. 'I was right in alwaysdeclaring you the wisest and kindest-hearted fellow in the world, andnow I see you are just as reasonable as you are noble-hearted.'
'Quietly, quietly,' Pavel Petrovitch interrupted him; 'don't hurt theleg of your reasonable brother, who at close upon fifty has beenfighting a duel like an ensign. So, then, it's a settled matter;Fenitchka is to be my ... _belle soeur_.'
'My dearest Pavel! But what will Arkady say?'
'Arkady? he'll be in ecstasies, you may depend upon it! Marriage isagainst his principles, but then the sentiment of equality in him willbe gratified. And, after all, what sense have class distinctions _audix-neuvieme siecle_?'
'Ah, Pavel, Pavel! let me kiss you once more! Don't be afraid, I'll becareful.'
The brothers embraced each other.
'What do you think, should you not inform her of your intention now?'queried Pavel Petrovitch.
'Why be in a hurry?' responded Nikolai Petrovitch. 'Has there been anyconversation between you?'
'Conversation between us? _Quelle idee!_'
'Well, that is all right then. First of all, you must get well, andmeanwhile there's plenty of time. We must think it over well, andconsider ...'
'But your mind is made up, I suppose?'
'Of course, my mind is made up, and I thank you from the bottom of myheart. I will leave you now; you must rest; any excitement is bad foryou.... But we will talk it over again. Sleep well, dear heart, and Godbless you!'
'What is he thanking me like that for?' thought Pavel Petrovitch, whenhe was left alone. 'As though it did not depend on him! I wi
ll go awaydirectly he is married, somewhere a long way off--to Dresden orFlorence, and will live there till I----'
Pavel Petrovitch moistened his forehead with eau de cologne, and closedhis eyes. His beautiful, emaciated head, the glaring daylight shiningfull upon it, lay on the white pillow like the head of a dead man....And indeed he was a dead man.