, Mihailov made an unpleasant
impression.

"Please step in," he said, trying to look indifferent, and going
into the passage he took a key out of his pocket and opened the
door.

Chapter 11

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 convict