The critic had undoubtedly put an interpretation upon the book which could not possibly be put on it.

But he had selected quotations so adroitly that for people who had not read the book (and obviously scarcely anyone had read it) it seemed absolutely clear that the whole book was nothing but a medley of high-flown phrases, not even--as suggested by marks of interrogation--used appropriately, and that the author of the book was a person absolutely without knowledge of the subject.

And all this was so wittily done that Sergey Ivanovitch would not have disowned such wit himself.

But that was just what was so awful.

In spite of the scrupulous conscientiousness with which Sergey Ivanovitch verified the correctness of the critic's arguments, he did not for a minute stop to ponder over the faults and mistakes which were ridiculed; but unconsciously he began immediately trying to recall every detail of his meeting and conversation with the author of the article.