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Updated: May 22, 2025
Raisky pressed his fellow-traveller to go farther afield; he wanted to go to Holland, to England, to Paris. "What should I do in England?" asked Kirilov. "There, all the art-treasures are in private galleries to which we have no access, and the public museums are not rich in great works of art. If you are determined to go, you must go by yourself from Holland. I will wait for you in Paris."
At home he worked zealously; visited with the sculptor and his students the Isaac Cathedral, where he stood in admiration before the work of Vitali; and he spent many hours in the galleries of the Hermitage. Overwhelmed with enthusiasm he urged Kirilov to start at once for Italy and Rome. He had not forgotten Leonti's commission, and sought out Juliana Andreevna in her lodgings.
One never loves those who are near one so much as when one is in danger of losing them." And when the carriage slowly drove over the river, Kirilov started all at once as though the splash of the water had frightened him, and made a movement. "Listen let me go," he said miserably. "I'll come to you later. I must just send my assistant to my wife. She is alone, you know!" Abogin did not speak.
When Raisky had taken his seat he looked out once more, and exchanged glances with Tatiana Markovna, with Vera and with Tushin. The common experience and suffering of the six months, which had drawn them so closely together, passed before his vision with the rapidity, the varying tone and colour, and the vagueness of a dream. As soon as Raisky reached St. Petersburg he hurried off to find Kirilov.
Kirilov and his wife were silent and not weeping, as though besides the bitterness of their loss they were conscious, too, of all the tragedy of their position; just as once their youth had passed away, so now together with this boy their right to have children had gone for ever to all eternity!
God is my witness that I am ashamed of attempting at such a moment to intrude on your attention, but what am I to do? Only think, to whom can I go? There is no other doctor here, you know. For God's sake come! I am not asking you for myself. . . . I am not the patient!" A silence followed. Kirilov turned his back on Abogin, stood still a moment, and slowly walked into the drawing-room.
"Why too late? There is an ensign I know who wields the chisel with great success." "An ensign, yes! But you, with your grey hair...." Kirilov emphasised his remarks with a vigorous shake of the head. Raisky would wrangle with him no longer. He spent three weeks in the studio of a sculptor, and made acquaintance with the students there.
It was dark in the entry and nothing could be distinguished in the man who came in but medium height, a white scarf, and a large, extremely pale face, so pale that its entrance seemed to make the passage lighter. "Is the doctor at home?" the newcomer asked quickly. "I am at home," answered Kirilov. "What do you want?" "Oh, it's you?
Raisky did not think it necessary to mention this incident to Leonti. His former guardian had sent him a considerable sum raised by the mortgage of his estate, and with this in hand he set out with Kirilov at the beginning of January for Dresden. He spent many hours of every day in the gallery, and paid an occasional visit to the theatre.
He angrily thrust the manuscript aside to look for a letter he had received a month ago from the sculptor Kirilov, and sat down at the table to answer it. "In my sound and clear mind, dear Kirilov, I hasten to give you the first intimation of the new and unexpected perspective of my art and my activity.
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