Rising to meet him, Nikolai said:
"So you have come to say good-bye?"
"I have."
"I understand your feelings, and I commend them. I know that my poor brother alone was to blame, and is now paying the penalty. Also, I gather from what he says that your position was such that you could not possibly have acted otherwise than as you did—that for you to have avoided this duel would have been impossible. That being so, we must attribute the mischance to the—er—standing antagonism of your views" (here Nikolai Petrovitch tripped over his words a little). "My brother is one of the old school, a man of hot temper and great persistency. Consequently we have God to thank that things have turned out no worse. Finally I may say that every possible precaution against publicity has been taken."
"Quite so," said Bazarov carelessly. "But I will leave my address with you, in case of anything occurring."
"I hope that nothing will occur. Indeed, my one regret is that your stay in my house should have—should have terminated in such a fashion. And I am the more grieved in that Arkady—-"
"I expect to be seeing him very soon," interrupted Bazarov, whom "explanations" or "speeches" of any kind always roused to fever pitch. "On the other hand, should I not do so, pray convey to him my greetings and my regrets."
"I will," said Nikolai Petrovitch with a bow; but even before he had finished Bazarov had left the room.
Paul Petrovitch, too, as soon as he heard that Bazarov was on the point of departing, expressed a desire to see him, and to shake hands with him. Yet Bazarov remained as cold as ice, for well he knew that Paul Petrovitch's only aim was to make a show of "magnanimity," while to Thenichka he did not say good-bye at all—he merely exchanged with her a glance as she peeped from one of the windows. Her face looked to him careworn.
"Before long she will either trip or elope," he reflected.