Paklin was offended and was about to say something when Nejdanov
interrupted him.

"I vote we leave politics for a time, ladies and gentlemen!" he
exclaimed.

A silence ensued.

"I ran across Skoropikin today," Paklin was the first to begin.
"Our great national critic, aesthetic, and enthusiast! What an
insufferable creature! He is forever boiling and frothing over
like a bottle of sour kvas. A waiter runs with it, his finger
stuck in the bottle instead of a cork, a fat raisin in the neck,
and when it has done frothing and foaming there is nothing left
at the bottom but a few drops of some nasty stuff, which far from
quenching any one's thirst is enough to make one ill. He's a most
dangerous person for young people to come in contact with."

Paklin's true and rather apt comparison raised no smile on his
listeners' faces, only Nejdanov remarked that if young people
were fools enough to interest themselves in aesthetics, they
deserved no pity whatever, even if Skoropikin did lead them
astray.

"Of course," Paklin exclaimed with some warmth--the less sympathy
he met with, the more heated he became--" I admit that the
question is not a political one, but an important one,
nevertheless. According to Skoropikin, every ancient work of art
is valueless because it is old. If that were true, then art would