on one of the remote streets, and installed himself therein with all his books and “preparations.”  And of books and preparations he had many, for he was a man not devoid of learning ... “a supernatural eccentric,” according to the words of his neighbours.  He even bore among them the reputation of a magician:  he had even received the nickname of “the insect-observer.”  He busied himself with chemistry, mineralogy, entomology, botany, and medicine; he treated voluntary patients with herbs and metallic powders of his own concoction, after the method of Paracelsus.  With those same powders he had sent into the grave his young, pretty, but already too delicate wife, whom he had passionately loved, and by whom he had had an only son.  With those same metallic powders he had wrought considerable havoc with the health of his son also, which, on the contrary, he had wished to reinforce, as he detected in his organisation anaemia and a tendency to consumption inherited from his mother.  The title of “magician” he had acquired, among other things, from the fact that he considered himself a great-grandson—­not in the direct line, of course—­of the famous Bruce, in whose honour he had named his son Yakoff.[51] He was the sort of man who is called “very good-natured,” but of a melancholy temperament, fussy, and timid, with a predilection for everything that was mysterious or mystical....  “Ah!” uttered in a half-whisper was his customary exclamation; and he died with that exclamation on his lips, two years after his removal to Moscow.

His son Yakoff did not, in outward appearance, resemble his father, who had been homely in person, clumsy and awkward; he reminded one rather of his mother.  There were the same delicate, pretty features, the same soft hair of ashblonde hue, the same plump, childish lips, and large, languishing, greenish-grey eyes, and feathery eyelashes.  On the other hand in disposition he resembled his father; and his face, which did not resemble his father’s, bore the stamp of his father’s expression; and he had angular arms, and a sunken chest, like old Aratoff, who, by the way, should hardly be called an old man, since he did not last to the age of fifty.  During the latter’s lifetime Yakoff had already entered the university, in the physico-mathematical faculty; but he did not finish his course,—­not out of idleness, but because, according to his ideas, a person can learn no more in the university than he can teach himself at home; and he did not aspire to a diploma, as he was not intending to enter the government service.  He avoided his comrades, made acquaintance with hardly any one, was especially shy of women, and lived a very isolated life, immersed in his books.  He was shy of women, although he had a very tender heart, and was captivated by beauty....  He even acquired the luxury of an English keepsake, and (Oh, for shame!) admired the portraits of divers, bewitching Gulnares and Medoras which “adorned” it....  But his inborn modesty constantly restrained him.  At home he occupied his late father’s study, which had also been his bedroom; and his bed was the same on which his father had died.