"No. Besides, every one has gone out to the fields. Nor do I fear any one except Paul Petrovitch. I merely thought that, that——"
"You thought what?"
"That some one might be coming this way. It seems I was wrong. Take this rose."
She handed Bazarov the gift.
"Why do you fear Paul Petrovitch?" he asked.
"I do so because he frightens me—when I speak to him he returns me no answer; he just stares at me in a meaning sort of way. You, too, do not like him, I believe? It was with him that you had such a quarrel, was it not? What it was all about I do not know, but at least I know that you worsted him like, like With a gesture she signified the manner in which she considered Bazarov to have routed Paul Petrovitch.
"And, had he worsted me," he inquired, "would you have taken my part?"
"How could I? We should have agreed no better than you and he."
"You think so? Then let me tell you that a certain little hand could twist me around its little finger."
"Whose hand is that?"