RUDIN
the window, ‘do you see that apple-tree? It is broken by the weight and abundance of its own fruit. True emblem of genius.’
‘It is broken because it had no support,’ replied Natalya
‘I understand you, Natalya Alexyevna, but it is not so easy for a man to find such a support.’
‘I should think the sympathy of others . . . in any case isolation always. . . .’
Natalya was rather confused, and flushed a little.
‘And what will you do in the country in the winter?’ she added hurriedly.
‘What shall I do? I shall finish my larger essay—you know it—on “Tragedy in Life and in Art.” I described to you the outline of it the day before yesterday, and shall send it to you.’
‘And you will publish it?’
‘No.’
‘No? For whose sake will you work then?’
‘And if it were for you?’
Natalya dropped her eyes.
‘It would be far above me.’
‘What, may I ask, is the subject of the
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