for him,—since one is the incarnation of the fleshly life, the other of the spiritual life. All this and much besides flashed through Mikhaïlof's mind. And once more his face was radiant with joy.
"Yes! And how that figure is painted! how much atmosphere! One could go round it," said Golenishchef, evidently showing by this observation that he did not approve of the design and scope [1] of the figure.
"Yes; it is a wonderful masterpiece," said Vronsky. "How alive those figures in the background are! There is technique for you!" he added, turning to Golenishchef, and alluding to a discussion in which he had avowed his discouragement in the technique of the art.
"Yes, yes; very remarkable," said Golenishchef and Anna, simultaneously. Notwithstanding the condition of enthusiasm to which he had risen, the remark about technique nettled Mikhaïlof; he scowled and looked at Vronsky with an angry expression. He had often heard this word technique, and he really did not know what was meant by it. He knew that this word signified the mechanical ability to paint and sketch, and had nothing to do with the thing painted. He had often noticed, as in the present case, that technical skill was opposed to the intrinsic merit of a work, as if it were possible to paint a bad picture with talent. He knew that it required great attention and care in removing the cloth not to injure the work, and in removing all the covers; but the technique of painting was not in that. If in the same way to a little child or to his cook were revealed what he saw, then the cook or the child would not hesitate to express what they saw. But the most experienced and skilful of technicians could not paint anything by mechanical ability only; it requires that the realm of inspiration[2] should be opened before him. Moreover, he saw that the very fact of talking about technique made it impossible to praise him for it. In everything that he had painted and was painting he
