Fathers and Children

by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The following morning when Madame Odintsov came down to morning tea,Bazarov sat a long while bending over his cup, then suddenly he glancedup at her.... She turned to him as though he had struck her a blow, andhe fancied that her face was a little paler since the night before. Shequickly went off to her own room, and did not appear till lunch. Itrained from early morning; there was no possibility of going for awalk. The whole company assembled in the drawing-room. Arkady took upthe new number of a journal and began reading it aloud. The princess,as was her habit, tried to express her amazement in her face, as thoughhe were doing something improper, then glared angrily at him; but hepaid no attention to her.

  'Yevgeny Vassilyitch' said Anna Sergyevna, 'come to my room.... I wantto ask you.... You mentioned a textbook yesterday ...'

  She got up and went to the door. The princess looked round with anexpression that seemed to say, 'Look at me; see how shocked I am!' andagain glared at Arkady; but he raised his voice, and exchanging glanceswith Katya, near whom he was sitting, he went on reading.

  Madame Odintsov went with rapid steps to her study. Bazarov followedher quickly, not raising his eyes, and only with his ears catching thedelicate swish and rustle of her silk gown gliding before him. MadameOdintsov sank into the same easy-chair in which she had sat theprevious evening, and Bazarov took up the same position as before.

  'What was the name of that book?' she began, after a brief silence.

  'Pelouse et Fremy, _Notions generales_,' answered Bazarov. 'I mightthough recommend you also Ganot, _Traite elementaire de physiqueexperimentale_. In that book the illustrations are clearer, and ingeneral it's a text-book.'

  Madame Odintsov stretched out her hand. 'Yevgeny Vassilyitch, I begyour pardon, but I didn't invite you in here to discuss text-books. Iwanted to continue our conversation of last night. You went away sosuddenly.... It will not bore you ...'

  'I am at your service, Anna Sergyevna. But what were we talking aboutlast night?'

  Madame Odintsov flung a sidelong glance at Bazarov.

  'We were talking of happiness, I believe. I told you about myself. Bythe way, I mentioned the word "happiness." Tell me why it is that evenwhen we are enjoying music, for instance, or a fine evening, or aconversation with sympathetic people, it all seems an intimation ofsome measureless happiness existing apart somewhere rather than actualhappiness--such, I mean, as we ourselves are in possession of? Why isit? Or perhaps you have no feeling like that?'

  'You know the saying, "Happiness is where we are not,"' repliedBazarov; 'besides, you told me yesterday you are discontented. Icertainly never have such ideas come into my head.'

  'Perhaps they seem ridiculous to you?'

  'No; but they don't come into my head.'

  'Really? Do you know, I should very much like to know what you do thinkabout?'

  'What? I don't understand.'

  'Listen; I have long wanted to speak openly to you. There's no need totell you--you are conscious of it yourself--that you are not anordinary man; you are still young--all life is before you. What are youpreparing yourself for? What future is awaiting you? I mean tosay--what object do you want to attain? What are you going forward to?What is in your heart? in short, who are you? What are you?'

  'You surprise me, Anna Sergyevna. You are aware that I am studyingnatural science, and who I ...'

  'Well, who are you?'

  'I have explained to you already that I am going to be a districtdoctor.'

  Anna Sergyevna made a movement of impatience.

  'What do you say that for? You don't believe it yourself. Arkady mightanswer me in that way, but not you.'

  'Why, in what is Arkady ...'

  'Stop! Is it possible you could content yourself with such a humblecareer, and aren't you always maintaining yourself that you don'tbelieve in medicine? You--with your ambition--a district doctor! Youanswer me like that to put me off, because you have no confidence inme. But, do you know, Yevgeny Vassilyitch, that I could understand you;I have been poor myself, and ambitious, like you; I have been perhapsthrough the same trials as you.'

  'That is all very well, Anna Sergyevna, but you must pardon me for ...I am not in the habit of talking freely about myself at any time as arule, and between you and me there is such a gulf ...'

  'What sort of gulf? You mean to tell me again that I am an aristocrat?No more of that, Yevgeny Vassilyitch; I thought I had proved toyou ...'

  'And even apart from that,' broke in Bazarov, 'what could induce one totalk and think about the future, which for the most part does notdepend on us? If a chance turns up of doing something--so much thebetter; and if it doesn't turn up--at least one will be glad one didn'tgossip idly about it beforehand.'

  'You call a friendly conversation idle gossip?... Or perhaps youconsider me as a woman unworthy of your confidence? I know you despiseus all.'

  'I don't despise you, Anna Sergyevna, and you know that.'

  'No, I don't know anything ... but let us suppose so. I understand yourdisinclination to talk of your future career; but as to what is takingplace within you now ...'

  'Taking place!' repeated Bazarov, 'as though I were some sort ofgovernment or society! In any case, it is utterly uninteresting; andbesides, can a man always speak of everything that "takes place" inhim?'

  'Why, I don't see why you can't speak freely of everything you have inyour heart.'

  'Can _you_?' asked Bazarov.

  'Yes,' answered Anna Sergyevna, after a brief hesitation.

  Bazarov bowed his head. 'You are more fortunate than I am.'

  Anna Sergyevna looked at him questioningly. 'As you please,' she wenton, 'but still something tells me that we have not come together fornothing; that we shall be great friends. I am sure this--what should Isay, constraint, reticence in you will vanish at last.'

  'So you have noticed reticence ... as you expressed it ... constraint?'

  'Yes.'

  Bazarov got up and went to the window. 'And would you like to know thereason of this reticence? Would you like to know what is passing withinme?'

  'Yes,' repeated Madame Odintsov, with a sort of dread she did not atthe time understand.

  'And you will not be angry?'

  'No.'

  'No?' Bazarov was standing with his back to her. 'Let me tell you thenthat I love you like a fool, like a madman.... There, you've forced itout of me.'

  Madame Odintsov held both hands out before her; but Bazarov was leaningwith his forehead pressed against the window pane. He breathed hard;his whole body was visibly trembling. But it was not the tremor ofyouthful timidity, not the sweet alarm of the first declaration thatpossessed him; it was passion struggling in him, strong andpainful--passion not unlike hatred, and perhaps akin to it.... MadameOdintsov felt both afraid and sorry for him.

  'Yevgeny Vassilyitch!' she said, and there was the ring of unconscioustenderness in her voice.

  He turned quickly, flung a searching look on her, and snatching bothher hands, he drew her suddenly to his breast.

  She did not at once free herself from his embrace, but an instantlater, she was standing far away in a corner, and looking from there atBazarov. He rushed at her ...

  'You have misunderstood me,' she whispered hurriedly, in alarm. Itseemed if he had made another step she would have screamed.... Bazarovbit his lips, and went out.

  Half-an-hour after, a maid gave Anna Sergyevna a note from Bazarov; itconsisted simply of one line: 'Am I to go to-day, or can I stop tillto-morrow?'

  'Why should you go? I did not understand you--you did not understandme,' Anna Sergyevna answered him, but to herself she thought: 'I didnot understand myself either.'

  She did not show herself till dinner-time, and kept walking to and froin her room, stopping sometimes at the window, sometimes at thelooking-glass, and slowly rubbing her handkerchief over her neck, onwhich she still seemed to feel a burning spot. She asked herself whathad induced her to 'force' Bazarov's words, his confidence, and whethershe had suspecte
d nothing ... 'I am to blame,' she decided aloud, 'butI could not have foreseen this.' She fell to musing, and blushedcrimson, remembering Bazarov's almost animal face when he had rushed ather....

  'Oh?' she uttered suddenly aloud, and she stopped short and shook backher curls.... She caught sight of herself in the glass; her head thrownback, with a mysterious smile on the half-closed, half-opened eyes andlips, told her, it seemed, in a flash something at which she herselfwas confused....

  'No,' she made up her mind at last. 'God knows what it would lead to;he couldn't be played with; peace is anyway the best thing in theworld.'

  Her peace of mind was not shaken; but she felt gloomy, and even shed afew tears once though she could not have said why--certainly not forthe insult done her. She did not feel insulted; she was more inclinedto feel guilty. Under the influence of various vague emotions, thesense of life passing by, the desire of novelty, she had forced herselfto go up to a certain point, forced herself to look behind herself, andhad seen behind her not even an abyss, but what was empty ... orrevolting.