natural! This thought touched and amused him; he bent down to her
sweet, preoccupied face and hummed softly:

"'Onyegin, I won't conceal it;
I madly love Tatiana. . . .'"

By the time they reached the house, Yegor Semyonitch had got up.
Kovrin did not feel sleepy; he talked to the old man and went to
the garden with him. Yegor Semyonitch was a tall, broad-shouldered,
corpulent man, and he suffered from asthma, yet he walked so fast
that it was hard work to hurry after him. He had an extremely
preoccupied air; he was always hurrying somewhere, with an expression
that suggested that if he were one minute late all would be ruined!

"Here is a business, brother . . ." he began, standing still to
take breath. "On the surface of the ground, as you see, is frost;
but if you raise the thermometer on a stick fourteen feet above the
ground, there it is warm. . . . Why is that?"

"I really don't know," said Kovrin, and he laughed.

"H'm! . . . One can't know everything, of course. . . . However
large the intellect may be, you can't find room for everything in
it. I suppose you still go in chiefly for philosophy?"

"Yes, I lecture in psychology; I am working at philosophy in general."

"And it does not bore you?"

"On the contrary, it's all I live for."