Anna Karenina

Entering the studio, Mihailov scans his visitors, notes Vronsky's expression and jaws. His artistic sense unceasingly collects materials. He rapidly forms mental images of these three. Golenishtchev - a Russian living here. Mihailov doesn't remember his surname but remembers his face: 'one of the faces laid by in his memory in the immense class of the falsely consequential and poor in expression.' Vronsky and Madame Karenina 'must be distinguished and wealthy Russians, knowing nothing about art, like all those wealthy Russians, but posing as amateurs and connoisseurs.' He expects them to have seen antiques and other studios, coming to him 'to make the point of view complete.' He knows how dilettanti look at contemporary art 'with the sole object of being in a position to say that art is a thing of the past.' He saw it in their careless indifference. But despite this, he liked Vronsky, 'and still more Anna.' 'Here, if you please,' moving aside with nimble gait, pointing to his picture. 'It's the exhortation to Pilate. Matthew, chapter xxvii.' His lips trembling with emotion. During seconds of their silence, Mihailov gazes 'with the indifferent eye of an outsider.' He's sure they'll utter 'a higher, juster criticism.' Golenishtchev makes a remark about 'the fidelity of the expression of Pilate as an official.' Though trifling, Mihailov is 'in an ecstasy of delight.' He'd thought the same thing. This reflection was one of millions that would be true. Golenishtchev's remark doesn't diminish its significance. 'His heart warmed' and 'from a state of depression he suddenly passed to ecstasy.' Discussion follows about whether Christ should be 'brought down to the level of an historical character.' Golenishtchev argues about 'the unity of the impression being essential to art.' Mihailov greatly perturbed 'but he could say nothing in defense of his own idea.'