“O yes, very much. An amazing invention!” the youth answered gayly.
“And I can't stand gramophones,” Anton Pavlovitch confessed sadly.
“Why?”
“They speak and sing without feeling. Everything seems like a caricature … dead. Do you like photography?”
It appeared that the lawyer was a passionate lover of photography; he began at once to speak of it with enthusiasm, completely uninterested, as Chekhov had subtly and truly noticed, in the gramophone, despite his admiration for that “amazing invention.” And again I observed how there looked out of that uniform a living and rather amusing little man, whose feelings towards life were still those of a puppy hunting.
When Anton Pavlovitch had seen him out, he said sternly:
“They are like pimples on the seat of justice—disposing of the fate of people.”
And after a short silence:
“Crown prosecutors must be very fond of fishing … especially for little fish.”