peculiar look, radiant and inspired, and that he was very interesting.

III

After supper, when the visitors had gone, he went to his room and
lay down on the sofa: he wanted to think about the monk. But a
minute later Tanya came in.

"Here, Andryusha; read father's articles," she said, giving him a
bundle of pamphlets and proofs. "They are splendid articles. He
writes capitally."

"Capitally, indeed!" said Yegor Semyonitch, following her and smiling
constrainedly; he was ashamed. "Don't listen to her, please; don't
read them! Though, if you want to go to sleep, read them by all
means; they are a fine soporific."

"I think they are splendid articles," said Tanya, with deep conviction.
"You read them, Andryusha, and persuade father to write oftener.
He could write a complete manual of horticulture."

Yegor Semyonitch gave a forced laugh, blushed, and began uttering
the phrases usually made us of by an embarrassed author. At last
he began to give way.

"In that case, begin with Gaucher's article and these Russian
articles," he muttered, turning over the pamphlets with a trembling
hand, "or else you won't understand. Before you read my objections,
you must know what I am objecting to. But it's all nonsense . . .
tiresome stuff. Besides, I believe it's bedtime."