The next day when Madame Odintsov came down to tea, Bazarov sat for a long time bending over his cup, then suddenly glanced up at her . . . she turned towards him as if he had touched her, and he fancied that her face was paler since the night before. She soon went off to her own room and did not reappear till breakfast. It had rained since early morning, so that there was no question of going for walks. The whole party assembled in the drawing room. Arkady took up the last number of a journal and began to read. The princess, as usual, first tried to express angry amazement by her facial expression, as though he were doing something indecent, then glared angrily at him, but he paid no attention to her.

“Evgeny Vassilich,” said Anna Sergeyevna, “let us go to my room. I want to ask you . . . you mentioned a textbook yesterday . . . ”

She got up and went to the door. The princess looked round as if she wanted to say, “Look at me; see how shocked I am!” and again stared at Arkady, but he merely raised his head, and exchanging glances with Katya, near whom he was sitting, he went on reading.

Madame Odintsov walked quickly into her study. Bazarov followed her without raising his eyes, and only listening to the delicate swish and rustle of her silk dress gliding in front of him. Madame Odintsov sat down in the same armchair in which she had sat the evening before, and Bazarov also sat down in his former place.

“Well, what is that book called?” she began after a short silence.

“Pelouse et Fré, Notions Générales . . .,” answered Bazarov. “However, I might recommend to you also Ganot, Traité élémentaire de Physique Expérimentale. In that book the illustrations are clearer, and as a complete textbook — ”

Madame Odintsov held out her hand.

“Evgeny Vassilich, excuse me, but I didn’t invite you here to discuss textbooks. I wanted to go on with our conversation of last night. You went away so suddenly . . . It won’t bore you?”

“I am at your service, Anna Sergeyevna. But what were we talking about last night?”

Madame Odintsov cast a sidelong glance at Bazarov.

“We were talking about happiness, I believe. I told you about myself. By the way, I just mentioned the word ‘happiness.’ Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying, for instance, music, a beautiful evening, or a conversation with agreeable people, it all seems to be rather a hint of immeasurable happiness existing somewhere apart, rather than genuine happiness, such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess? Why is it? Or perhaps you never experience that kind of feeling?”

“You know the saying, ‘Happiness is where we are not,’” replied Bazarov. “Besides, you told me yesterday that you are discontented. But it is as you say, no such ideas ever enter my head.”

“Perhaps they seem ridiculous to you?”

“No, they just don’t enter my head.”

“Really. Do you know, I should very much like to know what you do think about?”

“How? I don’t understand you.”

“Listen, I have long wanted to have a frank talk with you. There is no need to tell you — for you know it yourself — that you are not an ordinary person; you are still young — your whole life lies before you. For what are you preparing yourself? What future awaits you? I mean to say, what purpose are you aiming at, in what direction are you moving, what is in your heart? In short, who and what are you?”

“You surprise me, Anna Sergeyevna. You know, that I am studying natural science and who I . . .”

“Yes, who are you?”

“I have already told you that I am going to be a district doctor.”

Anna Sergeyevna made an impatient movement.

“What do you say that for? You don’t believe it yourself. Arkady might answer me in that way, but not you.”

“How does Arkady come in?”

“Stop! Is it possible you could content yourself with such a humble career, and aren’t you always declaring that medicine doesn’t exist for you? You — with your ambition — a district doctor! You answer me like that in order to put me off because you have no confidence in me. But you know, Evgeny Vassilich, I should be able to understand you; I also have been poor and ambitious, like you; perhaps I went through the same trials as you.”

“That’s all very well, Anna Sergeyevna, but you must excuse me . . . I am not in the habit of talking freely about myself in general, and there is such a gulf between you and me . . .”

“In what way, a gulf? Do you mean to tell me again that I am an aristocrat? Enough of that, Evgeny Vassilich; I thought I had convinced you . . .”

“And apart from all that,” broke in Bazarov, “how can we want to talk and think about the future, which for the most part doesn’t depend on ourselves? If an opportunity turns up of doing something — so muc............