Bazarov smiled. 'But if he gave me a beating,' he asked, 'would you stand up for me?'
'How could I stand up for you? but no, no one will get the better of you.'
'Do you think so? But I know a hand which could overcome me if it liked.'
'What hand?'
'Why, don't you know, really? Smell, how delicious this rose smells you gave me.'
Fenitchka stretched her little neck forward, and put her face close to the flower.... The kerchief slipped from her head on to her shoulders; her soft mass of dark, shining, slightly ruffled hair was visible.
'Wait a minute; I want to smell it with you,' said Bazarov. He bent down and kissed her vigorously on her parted lips.
She started, pushed him back with both her hands on his breast, but pushed feebly, and he was able to renew and prolong his kiss.
A dry cough was heard behind the lilac bushes. Fenitchka instantly moved away to the other end of the seat. Pavel Petrovitch showed himself, made a slight bow, and saying with a sort of malicious mournfulness, 'You are here,' he retreated. Fenitchka at once gathered up all her roses and went out of the arbour. 'It was wrong of you, Yevgeny Vassilyevitch,'
