“An old study desk was piled high with books. The lamp burned dimly. Nineteen-year-old Alexey Ingel’shtet seemed tired and bored. He had a face so young it looked almost like that of a girl—very pale, with a slight pinkish tint on the cheeks; delicate hair—flax-colored, fine like down, a bit sparse—curled over his forehead. There was always something lively and shy in his blue eyes…”