I wonder if Horwicz could read the following exquisite prose poem of Turgenieff without feeling ashamed of himself:—
"We two are sitting in the room: my dog and I. A violent storm is raging without.
"The dog sits close before me—he gazes straight into my eyes.
"And I too gaze straight into his eyes.
"It seems as if he wished to say something to me. He is dumb, has no words, does not understand himself; but I understand him.
"I understand that he and I are at this moment governed by the same feeling, that there is not the slightest difference between us. We are beings of the same kind. In each of us shines and glows the same flame.
"Death approaches, flapping his broad, cold, moist wings....
"And all is ended.
"Who then will establish the difference between the flames which glowed within us two?
"No! We who exchange those glances are not animal and man.