used to get up very early and go out for two or three miles, not for a walk—he couldn't bear walking without an object—but to collect specimens of plants and insects. Sometimes he took Arkady with him.
On the way home an argument usually sprang up, and Arkady was usually vanquished in it, though he said more than his companion.
One day they had lingered rather late; Nikolai Petrovitch went to meet them in the garden, and as he reached the arbour he suddenly heard the quick steps and voices of the two young men. They were walking on the other side of the arbour, and could not see him.
'You don't know my father well enough,' said Arkady.
'Your father's a nice chap,' said Bazarov, 'but he's behind the times; his day is done.'
Nikolai Petrovitch listened intently.... Arkady made no answer.
The man whose day was done remained two minutes motionless, and stole slowly home.
'The day before yesterday I saw him reading Pushkin,' Bazarov was continuing meanwhile. 'Explain to him, please, that that's no earthly use. He's not a boy, you know; it's time to throw up that rubbish. And what an idea to
