'Whom are you speaking of?'
'You know; only one of them was pretty.'
Arkady, not without embarrassment, explained to him briefly who Fenitchka was.
'Aha!' commented Bazarov; 'your father's got good taste, one can see. I like him, your father, ay, ay! He's a jolly fellow. We must make friends though,' he added, and turned back towards the arbour.
'Yevgeny!' Arkady cried after him in dismay; 'mind what you are about, for mercy's sake.'
'Don't worry yourself,' said Bazarov; 'I know how to behave myself—I'm not a booby.'
Going up to Fenitchka, he took off his cap.
'Allow me to introduce myself,' he began, with a polite bow. 'I'm a harmless person, and a friend of Arkady Nikolaevitch's.'
Fenitchka got up from the garden seat and looked at him without speaking.
'What a splendid baby!' continued Bazarov; 'don't be uneasy, my praises have never brought ill-luck yet. Why is it his cheeks are so flushed? Is he cutting his teeth?'