Anna Karenina - Part 5

On entering the studio, Mihailov once more scanned his visitors

and noted down in his imagination Vronsky's expression too, and

especially his jaws. Although his artistic sense was unceasingly

at work collecting materials, although he felt a continually

increasing excitement as the moment of criticizing his work drew

nearer, he rapidly and subtly formed, from imperceptible signs, a

mental image of these three persons.

That fellow (Golenishtchev) was a Russian living here. Mihailov

did not remember his surname nor where he had met him, nor what

he had said to him. He only remembered his face as he remembered

all the faces he had ever seen; but he remembered, too, that it

was one of the faces laid by in his memory in the immense class

of the falsely consequential and poor in expression. The

abundant hair and very open forehead gave an appearance of

consequence to the face, which had only one expression--a petty,

childish, peevish expression, concentrated just above the bridge

of the narrow nose. Vronsky and Madame Karenina must be,

Mihailov supposed, distinguished and wealthy Russians, knowing

nothing about art, like all those wealthy Russians, but posing as

amateurs and connoisseurs. "Most likely they've already looked

at all the antiques, and now they're making the round of the

studios of the new people, the German humbug, and the cracked

Pre-Raphaelite English fellow, and have only come to me to make

the point of view complete," he thought. He was well acquainted

with the way dilettanti have (the cleverer they were the worse he

found them) of looking at the works of contemporary artists with

the sole object of being in a position to say that art is a thing

of the past, and that the more one sees of the new men the more

one sees how inimitable the works of the great old masters have

remained. He expected all this; he saw it all in their faces, he

saw it in the careless indifference with which they talked among

themselves, stared at the lay figures and busts, and walked about

in leisurely fashion, waiting for him to uncover his picture.

But in spite of this, while he was turning over his studies,

pulling up the blinds and taking off the sheet, he was in intense

excitement, especially as, in spite of his conviction that all

distinguished and wealthy Russians were certain to be beasts and

fools, he liked Vronsky, and still more Anna.

"Here, if you please," he said, moving on one side with his

nimble gait and pointing to his picture, "it's the exhortation to

Pilate. Matthew, chapter xxvii," he said, feeling his lips were

beginning to tremble with emotion. He moved away and stood

behind them.