The moment Peter Ivánovich began to speak, you ought to have seen with what respectful attention Pákhtin received every word that flew out of the mouth of the distinguished old man, and how after each sentence, at times after a word, Pákhtin with a nod, a smile, or a motion of his eyes gave him to understand that he had received and accepted the memorable sentence or word.
The weary glance approved of that manoeuvre. Sergyéy Petróvich seemed to be afraid lest his father’s conversation should not be weighty enough, corresponding to the attention of the hearer. Sónya Petróvna, on the contrary, smiled that imperceptible self-satisfied smile which people smile who have caught a man’s ridiculous side. It seemed to her that nothing was to be got from him, that he was a “ shyúshka ,” as she and her brother nicknamed a certain class of people.
Peter Ivánovich declared that during his journey he had seen enormous changes, which gave him pleasure.
“There is no comparison, the masses—the peasants—stand so much higher now, have so much greater consciousness of their dignity,” he said, as though repeating some old phrases. “I must say that the masses have always interested me most. I am of the opinion that the strength of Russia does not lie in us, but in the masses,” and so forth.
Peter Ivánovich with characteristic zeal evolved his more or less original ideas in regard to many important subjects. We shall hear more of them in fuller form. Pákhtin was melting for joy, and fully agreed with him in everything.
“You must by all means meet the Aksátovs. Will you permit me to introduce them to you, prince? You know they have permitted him to publish his periodical. Tomorrow, they say, the first number will appear. I have also read his remarkable article on the consistency of the theory of science in the abstract. Remarkably interesting. Another article, the