Never mind, never mind, repeated Nikolai Petrovitch, smiling tenderly, and twice he struck the collar of his sons cloak and his own greatcoat with his hand. Let me have a look at you; let me have a look at you, he added, moving back from him, but immediately he went with hurried steps towards the yard of the station, calling, This way, this way; and horses at once.
Nikolai Petrovitch went back quickly, and going up to a tall man in a long, loose, rough coat with tassels, who had only just got out of the carriage, he warmly pressed the ungloved red hand, which the latter did not at once hold out to him.
Yevgeny Vassilyev, answered Bazarov, in a lazy but manly voice; and turning back the collar of his rough coat, he showed Nikolai Petrovitch his whole face. It was long and lean, with a broad forehead, a nose flat at the base and sharper at the end, large greenish eyes, and drooping whiskers of a sandy colour; it was lighted up by a tranquil smile, and showed self-confidence and intelligence.
I came here with the carriage, but there are three horses for your coach too, said Nikolai Petrovitch fussily, while Arkady drank some water from an iron dipper brought him by the woman in charge of the station, and Bazarov began smoking a pipe and went up to the driver, who was taking out the horses; there are only two seats in the carriage, and I dont know how your friend
In a few minutes the horses were harnessed; the father and son were installed in the carriage; Piotr climbed up on to the box; Bazarov jumped into the coach, and nestled his head down into the leather cushion; and both the vehicles rolled away.