complimentary remark, and had not the courage, while Vronsky both wished and feared to hear it.
"Well, then," Vronsky began, so that some conversation might be started, "so you are settled here? Are you still interested in the same pursuits?" he asked, remembering that he had been told that Golenishchef was writing something.
"Yes; I have been writing the second part of the 'Two Origins,'" replied Golenishchef, kindling with delight at this question; "that is, to be more exact, I am not writing yet, but have been collecting and preparing my materials. It will be far more extended, and will touch on almost all questions. At home, in Russia, they can't understand that we are successors of Byzantium," and he began a long and vehement explanation.
Vronsky at first felt awkward because he did not know about the first part of the "Two Origins," about which the author spoke as if it were something well known. But afterward, as Golenishchef began to develop his thought, and Vronsky saw what he meant, then, even though he did not know about the "Two Origins," he listened not without interest, for Golenishchef spoke well.
But Vronsky was surprised and annoyed at the irritable excitement under which Golenishchef labored while talking about the object that absorbed him. The longer he spoke, the brighter grew his eyes, the more animated were his arguments in refutation of imaginary opponents, and the more angry and excited the expression of his face.
Vronsky remembered Golenishchef at the School of Pages,—a lad of small stature, thin, nervous, agile, a good-hearted and gentlemanly lad, always at the head of his class, and he could not understand the reasons for such irascibility and he did not approve of it. And it especially displeased him that Golenishchef, a man of good social standing, should put himself down on the level of these common scribblers, and get angry with them because they criticized him. Was it worth while? It displeased him; but, nevertheless, he felt that Golenishchef
