'Very good. I am very glad to hear you say so. Your words relieve me from 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 deplorable necessity. 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 I prefer to be silent about it. To my idea your presence here is superfluous; I cannot endure you; I despise you; and if that is not enough for you ...'
Pavel Petrovitch's eyes glittered ... Bazarov's too were flashing.
'Very good,' he assented. 'No need of further explanations. You've a whim to try your chivalrous spirit upon me. I might refuse you this pleasure, but—so be it!'
'I am sensible of my obligation to you,' replied Pavel Petrovitch; 'and may reckon then on your accepting my challenge without compelling me to resort to violent measures.'