And Nikolai Petrovitch pulled the famous treatise of Büchner, in the ninth edition, out of his coat-tail pocket.
Pavel Petrovitch turned it over in his hands. 'Hm!' he growled. 'Arkady Nikolaevitch is taking your education in hand. Well, did you try reading it?'
'Yes, I tried it.'
'Well, what did you think of it?'
'Either I'm stupid, or it's all—nonsense. I must be stupid, I suppose.'
'Haven't you forgotten your German?' queried Pavel Petrovitch.
'Oh, I understand the German.'
Pavel Petrovitch again turned the book over in his hands, and glanced from under his brows at his brother. Both were silent.
'Oh, by the way,' began Nikolai Petrovitch, obviously wishing to change the subject, 'I've got a letter from Kolyazin.'
'Matvy Ilyitch?'