ABSTRACT
While Tortsov was talking, he almost imperceptibly half-closed one eye, as though a sty was forming, and opened the other much wider, raising the eyebrow. It was barely noticeable, even to those close by. These minute changes had a strange effect. He was still Tortsov, of course, but . . . someone else, too, someone untrustworthy. He now had something tricky, sly, vulgar about him, that was not really he. But as soon as he stopped the game with his eye, he was back to good old Tortsov. But when he screwed up his eye again and changed his face, he was once more the swindler.
