mine, I dared, nevertheless, to recognized this Regent Sofia. Why did our friend, first-class artist that he is, why did he not want to be taught by Sofia's contemporaries before tacking his painting? If she, that is, Sofia, would go from her bed-chamber to the prayer-cell and, seeing her brother's monstrosities, like a tigress first throw herself at the window and then turn away, and her eyes would become fixed on the very bridge of her nose, freeze there and she would herself freeze with cast-iron fists--I would have understood the artist, I would have recognized Sofia.
Passing on to the portrait of Litovchenko [by Kramskoy], I jumped back: I saw him and met him, even though we are personally unacquainted. What a wonder-worker Kramskoy is! This is not cavas-- this is life, art, the sought-for might in creativeness.
From the "Condemned"56 I went downstairs, sat down hear some good old woman, custodian of the overcoats, smoked recklessly, and didn't care to see any more paintings.
The fuller the recognition of the amazing brush-work of our artist- friend--the sorrier I feel about his Regent Sofia.
THE SAME MUSORYANIN____________________