Fathers and Sons

"Yes, to you," Arkady repeated. "No longer am I the presumptuous lad who came here a short while ago: not for nothing have I attained my twenty-third year. And though I still wish to be of use in life, though I still wish to consecrate the whole of my faculties to the service of Truth, I no longer seek my ideals where I was wont to do – they appear to me to stand much nearer home. Hitherto I have been in ignorance of myself, hitherto I have set myself tasks beyond my powers; but now, through a certain feeling which is within me, my eyes have become opened. By the way, the manner in which I express myself may be lacking in clarity, yet I venture to hope that I have made myself understood?"

Katia said nothing; but she ceased to look at the speaker.

"In my opinion," he went on in a tone of rising emotion, while in a birch tree overhead a chaffinch started pouring forth a flood of unstudied song, "in my opinion, it is the duty of an honourable man to be frank with those who, with those who – in short, with those who stand nearest to him in life. Consequently I, I am minded to – to – "

Here Arkady's eloquence failed him. He stumbled and stuttered and had to pause for a moment. Meanwhile Katia's eyes remained lowered. One would have thought that she did not in the least understand this preamble, but was expecting to hear something quite of a different nature.

"That I shall surprise you I know in advance," continued Arkady, once more spurring his faculties. "And that surprise will be the greater when I tell you that the feeling to which I have alluded concerns, to a certain extent – yes, to a certain extent, yourself. For yesterday, you will remember, you imputed to me a lack of gravity " – he was speaking much like a man who, having blundered into a bog, feels that at each step he sinks deeper and deeper, yet struggles on in the hope of eventually extricating himself – "and such a reproach is all too often levelled against, all too often falls upon, young people who have ceased to deserve it. Were I but possessed of more self-confidence" ("God help me! God help me!" he thought despairingly, but Katia did not even turn her head) – "had I but the right to hope that – "

"Did I but feel sure that you really mean what you say," broke in, at this moment, the clear accents of Anna Sergievna.

Arkady became dumb, and Katia turned pale; for along a little path which skirted the bushes screening the temple there were advancing Bazarov and Madame! Katia and Arkady could not actually see the pair, yet they could hear every word uttered, and even catch the sound of their breathing, and the rustle of Anna Sergievna's dress. Advancing a few more steps, the couple halted, and remained standing in front of the building.

"It is like this," Anna Sergievna continued. "You and I have blundered into an error. That is to say, while neither of us is in the heyday of youth – I so least of the two – and both of us have lived our fives and are weary, we are also (for I need not stand on ceremony) individuals of intellect. Consequently, though, at first, we interested one another, and felt our mutual curiosity aroused, it happened that subsequently – "

"That subsequently I grew stale in your eyes," hazarded Bazarov.

"Oh no! That that was not the cause of the situation you are well aware. But, whatever the cause, you and I have not a compelling need of one another. Therein lies the point. In other words, both of us have in us – how shall I express it? – both of us are too mutually akin. We were slow to grasp that fact. Now, Arkady – "

"Have you a 'compelling need' – of him?" put in Bazarov.

"For shame, Evgenii Vasilitch! You yourself have averred that he is not wholly indifferent to me; and I too have long suspected that he cherishes for me at least a measure of admiration. As we are on the subject, I will not attempt to conceal from you that of late the fact that I am old enough to be his aunt has not prevented me from devoting to him more of my thoughts than I used to do. In his fresh young sentimentality there is a certain charm."

"The term 'fascination' comes handier in such cases," said Bazarov in the deep, quiet tone which, with him, always signified sarcasm. "As a matter of fact, I found Arkady secretive yesterday – he made but the scantiest of references either to you or your sister. That constitutes an important symptom."

"Katia and he are brother and sister to one another," said Madame. "Indeed I am pleased to see it – though perhaps I ought not to connive at so much familiarity."

"I presume that the element speaking in you is the sister?" drawled Bazarov.

"Of course! But need we stand here? Let us move on. We hold curious conversations, do we not? Indeed, to think of all the things which I now say to you! Yet I still fear you a little, even though I trust you as being, at heart, a good man."

"I am far from good; and you only call me so because I have lost all significance in your eyes. Ill boots it to weave chaplets for the head of a corpse."

"Evgenii Vasilitch, we cannot always command ourselves," came the sound of Anna Sergievna's next words; but the next moment the wind soughed, the leaves rustled, and the rest of what she was saying was carried away into the distance. Nothing beyond it save (after a pause) "You are free, are you not?" on the part of Bazarov could be distinguished. Then the sound of their footsteps died away, and once more complete silence reigned.

Turning to Katia, Arkady saw that she was sitting as before, but with her head more bent.

"Katerina Sergievna," he said tremulously, and with his hands clasped, "I shall love you always, and beyond recall; nor shall I ever love another woman. This is what I have been trying to say to you this morning, in the hope that I might ascertain your views, and then beg for your hand. I am not a rich man, but I would make any sacrifice for your sake. Come, then! Will you answer me? Will you trust me? Surely you do not think that I am speaking out of frivolity? Recall the past few days: may you not rest assured now that my remaining self (you know what I mean) is gone for ever? Come, look at me – look at me and speak but a word, a single word. I love you, I love you! Do not refuse to believe that I mean what I say."

Gravely, yet with a radiant look in her eyes, Katia raised her head, and, after a moment's thought, said with the trace of a smile: "Yes."

Arkady leapt up.

"'Yes'? You have said 'Yes,' Katia! But what do mean by that word? Do you mean that you believe in my love, or do you mean that – ? No, no; I dare not finish the sentence."

Katia repeated only the word "Yes," but this time she left no room for misunderstanding. Arkady seized her large, but not unshapely, hands in his, and, panting with rapture, strained her to his breast. He could scarcely stand upon his feet – he could only keep repeating again and again: "Katia! Katia!" Meanwhile she shed a few innocent tears at which she smiled as they fell. The man who has not seen such tears in the eyes of his beloved does not know the height of happiness to which, with mingled joy and gratitude and modesty, a woman can attain.

Next morning Anna Sergievna sent for Bazarov to her boudoir; and when he arrived she, with a forced smile, handed him a folded sheet of notepaper. That sheet represented a letter from Arkady, a letter in which he begged for her sister's hand.

Bazarov skimmed the epistle – then scarcely could forbear venting the rancour which blazed for a moment in his breast.

"It is as I said, you see," he commented. "Only yesterday you were telling me that his feeling for Katerina Sergievna was that of a brother for a sister! And what are you going to do?"

"What would you advise me to do?" she said, still smiling.

"I presume" – he also was smiling, although he was feeling as wholly out of spirits, as little inclined towards gaiety, as she was – "I presume that we have no choice but to bestow our blessing upon the young couple. In every respect it would be a good match, for his father has a nice little property, Arkady is the only son, and the father is too easy-going to be likely to raise any difficulty."

Madame Odintsov rose and paced the room for a moment or two – her face alternately flushing and turning pale.

"So that is what you think?" she said. "Well, I too see no impediment. Indeed, the affair rejoices me both for Katia's sake and for – yes, for his. But first I must await his father's consent; and for that purpose I will send Arkady himself to interview Nikolai Petrovitch. So I was right yesterday, was I not? I was right when I said that you and I are become elderly? How did I fail to foresee this? I am indeed surprised at it!"

Again she smiled, but, in the very act of smiting, turned away.

"Our young folk are indeed cunning," remarked Bazarov. After a pause he added:

"Good-bye now. I hope that the affair may develop Well. From a distance I, too, shall rejoice."

She turned and faced him.

"Need you really go?" she asked. "Why not stay a little longer? Pray stay, for I find talking to you a stimulant – it is like walking on the edge of a precipice: at first one is afraid, then one gathers courage. Do not go."

"I thank you for the proposal, as also for your flattering estimate of my conversational powers," said Bazarov. "Nevertheless, I have tarried overlong in a sphere which is alien to my personality. Only for a while can flying fish support themselves in the air. Then they relapse into their natural element. Allow me to flop back into mine."

Yet a bitter laugh was twisting his pale features. She saw it, and felt sorry for him.

"The man still loves me," was her thought, and she extended a sympathetic hand.

He understood her, however.

"No, no!" he exclaimed as he withdrew a step or two. "Though poor, I have never yet accepted aims. Good-bye, and may your lot always be happy."

"Yet we shall meet again," she replied with an involuntary gesture. "Of that I am certain."

"Anything may occur in this world," he remarked – then bowed and was gone.

That afternoon he said to Arkady as he knelt down to pack his trunk:

"I hear that you are going to make a nest for yourself? And why should you not? It is an excellent course to take. But for you to dissemble is useless, and I had scarcely expected that you would do so. Has the preoccupation of it all deprived you of your tongue?"

"When I left you at Marino I had no thought of this," said Arkady. "You are the dissembler, though, are you not? For when you say 'It is an excellent course to take,' you dissemble, as well as waste your time, seeing that I am well aware of your views on marriage."

"Merely my way of expressing myself. You see what I am doing at this moment. In my trunk is a vacant space. I am packing it with straw. And the same with life's trunk. To avoid leaving empty spaces therein we pad the interstices. You need not be offended. You cannot fail to remember what I really think of Katerina Sergievna. While some maidens earn cheap reputations by merely smiling at right moments, your inamorata can show more – indeed, so much more that soon you will be (and very properly) under her thumb."

Slapping down the lid of the trunk, Bazarov rose from the floor.

"Now, farewell," he said. "No, I will not deceive you: we are parting for ever, and you know it. In my opinion you have acted wisely, for you were not meant to live the hard, bitter, reckless life of Nihilism – you lack at once the necessary coolness and the necessary venom. But this is not to say that in you there is not a due measure of youthful spirit. What I mean is that that asset alone is not sufficient for the work. The dvorianin is powerless to progress beyond either well-bred effervescence or well-bred humility: and both sentiments are futile. For example, you have not yet been blooded, yet already you think yourself a man: whereas the two chief conditions of our existence are battle and bloodshed. Yes, the dust from our heels hurts your eyes, and the grime on our bodies makes you feel dirty. In other words, although you derive a certain gratification from indulging in self-criticism, and think no small beer of yourself, you have failed to grow to our stature. To us such things are vanities. Tools' of an altogether different kind are what we need for the task. Consequently I repeat that, though a fine young fellow enough, you are also just a little-minded, so-called 'liberal-minded' baritch[38 - A small squire.]– what my father calls a 'product of evolution.'"

"Evgenii," was Arkady's sad reply, "we are parting for ever, yet this is all that you have to say to me!"