"Yes," he said, without looking at any one in particular, "it is indeed a terrible thing to have lived five years in the country, and to have stood remote from superior intellects! If one is ab origine a fool, one becomes so more than ever, seeing that, however much one may try not to forget what one has learnt, there will dawn upon one, sooner or later, the revelation that one's knowledge is all rubbish, that sensible men have ceased to engage in such futilities, and that one has lagged far behind the times. But, in such a case, what is one to do? Evidently the younger generation know more than we do."
And, slowly turning on his heel, he moved away as slowly, with Nikolai Petrovitch following in his wake.
"Does Paul Petrovitch always reside here?" asked Bazarov when the door had closed upon the pair.
"Yes, he does. But look here, Evgenii. You adopted too sharp a tone with my uncle. You have offended him."
"What? Am I to fawn upon these rustic aristocrats, even though their attitude is one purely of conceit and subservience to custom? If such be Paul Petrovitch's bent, he had better have continued his career in St. Petersburg. Never mind him, however. Do you know, I have found a splendid specimen of the water beetle dytiscus marginatus. Are you acquainted with it? I will show it you."
"Did I not promise to tell you his history?" observed Arkady musingly.
"Whose history? The water beetle's?"
"No; my uncle's. At least you will see from it that he is not the man you take him for, but a man who deserves pity rather than ridicule."
"I am not prepared to dispute it. But how come you to be so devoted to him?"
"Always one ought to be fair."