"To think that you are now a graduate and home again!" said Nikolai Petrovitch as he tapped Arkady on the knee, and then on the shoulder. "There now, there now!"
"And how is Uncle? Is he quite well?" asked Arkady—the reason for the question being that though he felt filled with a genuine, an almost childish delight at his return, he also felt conscious of an instinct that the conversation were best diverted from the emotional to the prosaic.
"Yes, your uncle is quite well. As a matter of fact, he also had arranged to come and meet you, but at the last moment changed his mind."
"Did you have very long to wait?" continued Arkady.
"About five hours."
"Dearest Papa!" cried Arkady as, leaning over towards his father, he imprinted upon his cheek a fervent kiss. Nikolai Petrovitch smiled quietly.
"I have got a splendid horse for you," he next remarked. "Presently you shall see him. Also, your room has been entirely repapered."
"And have you a room for Bazarov as well?"
"One shall be found for him."
"Oh—and pray humour him in every way you can. I could not express to you how much I value his friendship."