just in the same way as he would never fail to carry out a promise he
had given; to Bersenyev--a Russian to his fingertips--this more
than German exactitude seemed at first odd, and even rather
ludicrous; but he soon got used to it, and ended by finding it--if not
deserving of respect--at least very convenient.

The second day after his arrival, Insarov got up at four o'clock in
the morning, made a round of almost all Kuntsovo, bathed in the river,
drank a glass of cold milk, and then set to work. And he had plenty of
work to do; he was studying Russian history and law, and political
economy, translating the Bulgarian ballads and chronicles, collecting
materials on the Eastern Question, and compiling a Russian grammar for
the use of Bulgarians, and a Bulgarian grammar for the use of
Russians. Bersenyev went up to him and began to discuss Feuerbach.
Insarov listened attentively, made few remarks, but to the point; it
was clear from his observations that he was trying to arrive at a
conclusion as to whether he need study Feuerbach, or whether he could
get on without him. Bersenyev turned the conversation on to his
pursuits, and asked him if he could not show him anything. Insarov
read him his translation of two or three Bulgarian ballads, and was
anxious to hear his opinion of them. Bersenyev thought the
translation a faithful one, but not sufficiently spirited. Insarov
paid close attention to his criticism. From the ballads Bersenyev
passed on to the present position of Bulgaria, and then for the first
time he noticed what a change came over Insarov at the mere mention of
his country: not that his face flushed nor his voice grew louder--no!
but at once a sense of force and intense onward striving was expressed
in his whole personality, the lines of his mouth grew harder and less
flexible, and a dull persistent fire glowed in the depths of his eyes.
Insarov did not care to enlarge on his own travels in his country;