been understood by them. And how strange! the observations which seemed so weighty when they were present, and when he put himself on their plane of observation, now lost all significance. He began to examine his work with his artist's eye, and soon regained his full conviction of its perfection and significance, so that he could shut out all other interests and make the effort necessary for his best work.
The foreshortening in the leg of the Christ was not quite correct. He seized his palette and set himself to work, and, while he was correcting it, looked long at the figure of John, which seemed to him to show the highest degree of perfection — and yet his visitors had not even noticed it! Having corrected the leg of the Christ, he tried to give this also a few touches, but he felt too excited to do it. However, he could not work when he was cool any better than he could when he was too near the melting point or when he was too clairvoyant. It was only one step of transition from indifference to inspiration, and only when he reached this was work possible. But to-day he was too excited. He started to cover the canvas. Then he stopped, and, lifting the drapery with one hand, he smiled ecstatically, and looked for a long time at his St. John. At last, tearing himself from his contemplation, he let the curtain fall, and went home, weary but happy.
Vronsky, Anna, and Golenishchef, returning to the palazzo, were very lively and gay. They talked about Mikhaïlof and his paintings. The word talent was often heard as they talked; they meant by it an innate gift, almost physical, independent of intellect and heart, and they tried to express by it all that had been experienced by the artist. It seemed as if they needed to have a term which should express something of which they had not the slightest comprehension, but yet wanted to talk about.
"There is no denying his talent," they said, "but his talent is not sufficiently developed, because he lacks intellectual culture, a fault common to all Russian artists."
