'Bene. What I like in her is that she's not too embarrassed. Some people, I suppose, would think ill of her for it. What nonsense! What is there to embarrass her? She's a mother—she's all right.'
'She's all right,' observed Arkady,—'but my father.'
'And he's right too,' put in Bazarov.
'Well, no, I don't think so.'
'I suppose an extra heir's not to your liking?'
'I wonder you're not ashamed to attribute such ideas to me!' retorted Arkady hotly; 'I don't consider my father wrong from that point of view; I think he ought to marry her.'
'Hoity-toity!' responded Bazarov tranquilly. 'What magnanimous fellows we are! You still attach significance to marriage; I did not expect that of you.'
The friends walked a few paces in silence.
'I have looked at all your father's establishment,' Bazarov began again. 'The cattle are inferior, the horses are broken down; the buildings aren't up to much, and the workmen look confirmed loafers; while the superintendent is either a fool, or a knave, I haven't quite found out which yet.'
'You are rather hard on everything to-day, Yevgeny Vassilyevitch.'