Both friends were silent a little.
‘I met Insarov again the other day,’ began Bersenyev. ‘I invited him to stay with me; I really must introduce him to you—and to the Stahovs.’
‘Who is Insarov? Ah, to be sure, isn’t it that Servian or Bulgarian you were telling me about? The patriot? Now isn’t it he who’s at the bottom of all these philosophical ideas?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Is he an exceptional individual?’
‘Yes.’
‘Clever? Talented?’
‘Clever—talented—I don’t know, I don’t think so.’
‘Not? Then, what is there remarkable in him?’
‘You shall see. But now I think it’s time to be going. Anna Vassilyevna will be waiting for us, very likely. What’s the time?’