"And think," Bazarov concluded, "in what an important rôle you are about to figure!"
But Peter, extending his hands deprecatingly, only turned up his eyes, became green in the face, and went and leant against a birch tree.
The copse was skirted by the road from Marino, and the light coating of dust bore no mark of having been disturbed since the previous evening, whether by wheel or by foot. Involuntarily Bazarov kept glancing along this road as, plucking and chewing stems of grass, he repeated again and again to himself: "What a piece of folly!" More than once, too, the morning air made him shiver, and Peter gaze plaintively in his direction; but Bazarov only laughed, for he at least was no coward.
At length hoofs sounded along the road, and there came into sight from behind the trees a peasant driving two horses with traces attached. As the man passed Bazarov he looked at him inquisitively, but failed to doff his cap; and this circumstance impressed Peter unfavourably, since the valet considered it a bad omen.
"Like ourselves, that peasant has risen early," thought Bazarov. "But whereas he has risen to work, we——!"
"Some one else is coming, I believe," whispered Peter.
Bazarov raised his head, and saw Paul Petrovitch, in a light check jacket and a pair of snow-white trousers, walking briskly along the road. Under his arm was a green, baize-covered box.
"Pardon me for having kept you waiting," he said with a bow to Bazarov, and then one to Peter (for even to the latter he, for the nonce, seemed to accord something of the respect due to a second). "As a matter of fact, I was loth to arouse my valet."
"I beg that you will not mention it," replied Bazarov. "We ourselves have only just arrived."
"So much the better!" And Paul Petrovitch glanced about him. "There will be no one to see us or disturb us. Are you agreeable to proceeding?"