side and close as though growing together. . . . He did not at
once know what was the subject, but looking closer, he recognised in
one of them Annushka, in the other Shubin himself. They were, however,
rather caricatures than portraits. Annushka was represented as a
handsome fat girl with a low forehead, eyes lost in layers of fat, and
a saucily turned-up nose. Her thick lips had an insolent curve; her
whole face expressed sensuality, carelessness, and boldness, not
without goodnature. Himself Shubin had modelled as a lean emaciated
rake, with sunken cheeks, his thin hair hanging in weak wisps about
his face, a meaningless expression in his dim eyes, and his nose sharp
and thin as a dead man's.

Bersenyev turned away with disgust. 'A nice pair, aren't they, my dear
fellow?' said Shubin; 'won't you graciously compose a suitable
title? For the first two I have already thought of titles. On the
bust shall be inscribed: "A hero resolving to liberate his country."
On the statuette: "Look out, sausage-eating Germans!" And for this
work what do you think of "The future of the artist Pavel Yakovlitch
Shubin?" Will that do?'

'Leave off,' replied Bersenyev. 'Was it worth while to waste your
time on such a ----' He could not at once fix on a suitable word.

'Disgusting thing, you mean? No, my dear fellow, excuse me, if
anything ought to go to the exhibition, it's that group.'

'It's simply disgusting,' repeated Bersenyev. 'And besides, it's
nonsense. You have absolutely no such degrading tendencies to which,
unhappily, our artists have such a frequent bent. You have simply
libelled yourself.'