Gottingen student did not lie on a bed of roses; he was for ever
weighed down by the march of history, by questions and ideas of every
kind. When young Bersenyev entered the university, his father used to
drive with him to the lectures, but his health was already beginning
to break up. The events of the year 1848 shook him to the foundation
(it necessitated the re-writing of his whole book), and he died in the
winter of 1853, before his son's time at the university was over, but
he was able beforehand to congratulate him on his degree, and to
consecrate him to the service of science. 'I pass on the torch to
you,' he said to him two hours before his death. 'I held it while I
could; you, too, must not let the light grow dim before the end.'

Bersenyev talked a long while to Elena of his father. The
embarrassment he had felt in her presence disappeared, and his lisp
was less marked. The conversation passed on to the university.

'Tell me,' Elena asked him, 'were there any remarkable men among your
comrades?'

Bersenyev was again reminded of Shubin's words.

'No, Elena Nikolaevna, to tell you the truth, there was not a single
remarkable man among us. And, indeed, where are such to be found!
There was, they say, a good time once in the Moscow university! But
not now. Now it's a school, not a university. I was not happy with my
comrades,' he added, dropping his voice.

'Not happy,' murmured Elena.

'But I ought,' continued Bersenyev, 'to make an exception. I know one