One glimpse at Anton's eyes, and I fell in love. That's all it took. I knew him only by reputation; his eyes worked the rest — intrigued me, charmed me. Of course, I'm married, and he's, well, dead, so no tryst. Still, the eyes of Dr Anton Pavlovich Chekhov: concern, fatigue, compassion, and pain glimmer there.
One would hope to find such eyes on a doctor, as well as on a playwright and story writer.