"Eniusha, Eniusha!"[1] the tremulous voice of an old woman also cried as the door of the house opened and there appeared on the threshold a short, rotund old dame in a white cap and a short striped blouse. Gasping and staggering, she would have fallen had not Bazarov hastened to support her. As he did so her fat old arms clasped him around the neck, and her head sank upon his bosom. All then was still for a moment. Only her convulsive sobs broke the silence. Meanwhile Bazarov Senior breathed hard, and blinked more vigorously than ever.
"Enough, enough, Arisha!" he said at length with a glance at Arkady, who had remained standing beside the tarantass (and even the peasant on the box-seat had turned away his head). "Pray cease, I tell you. This is not necessary. I beg of you to cease."
"Ah, Vasili Ivanitch!" whimpered the poor old woman. "To think of the long while since last I saw my Eniusha, my own, my darling boy!" Still keeping her arms clasped around Bazarov, she withdrew her ruffled, convulsed, tear-stained face from his breast, looked at him for a moment with blissful, yet comical, eyes, and glued herself again to his bosom.
"Yes, yes," said Vasili Ivanitch. "Such is in the nature of things. But had we not better go indoors? See! Evgenii has brought a guest!"
With a slight scrape and a bow, he added to Arkady:
"Pray pardon us, sir, but you will understand the situation. A woman's weakness—ahem!—and a mother's heart."
His lips, chin, and eyebrows too were working. Evidently he was striving to master himself, and to appear totally indifferent. Arkady responded to his bow with a like salutation.
"Yes, yes, dear mother; let us go indoors," said Bazarov. Leading the shaking old lady into the house, he seated her in a cosy chair, bestowed upon his father another hurried embrace, and then presented Arkady.
"I am glad indeed to make your acquaintance!" said Vasili Ivanitch. "I am glad indeed! But do not expect too much of us, my dear sir. My establishment is organised on simple lines; it is placed on what I might call 'a war footing.' Come, come, Arina! Pray calm yourself, and attend to your duties as a hostess. Oh, fie, to give way in such a manner! What will our guest think of you?"
"My dear, I do not know the gentleman's name," the old lady sobbed through her tears.