fate, and his very
existence. And then he threw out dark and confused hints of supernatural
agency, by which, if his living features were once faithfully
represented, his soul would be in some sort transferred to the portrait,
and be saved from complete annihilation, or a yet worse doom.
Terror-stricken at these strange and fearful words, my father threw down
pencil and palette and rushed from the house. He could not sleep that
night for meditating on this occurrence. The next morning he received
back the unfinished portrait, brought to his house by an old woman, the
only human being who lived with the usurer. She left also a message,
that her master returned the portrait, because he did not want and would
not pay for it. A few hours afterwards, on going out, my father learned
that the usurer of the Kolomna had died that morning. There was a
mystery in all this which my father neither was able nor desired to
solve.

"Dating from that day, a perceptible and unfavourable change took place
in my father's character. Without apparent cause he became irritable,
restless, and unhappy, and a very short time elapsed before he became
guilty of an act of which none supposed him capable. About this period,
the works of one of his pupils had attracted the attention of a small
circle of judges and amateurs of art. My father from the first had
perceived and appreciated this young man's talent, and had shown himself
particularly well-disposed towards him. Suddenly, as if by a spell, envy
and hatred were generated in his mind. The general interest excited by
the pupil became intolerable to the master, who could not hear with
patience the name of the rising genius. At length, to fill up the
measure of his mortification, he learned that the young man had been
preferred to paint a picture for a splendid church then just completed.
This drove my father frantic. Previously the most upright and honourable
of men, he now condescended to the pettiest intrigues and manoeuvres--he
who, up to that time, had regarded with horror and contempt all that
bore the semblance of intrigue. By dint of caballing, he succeeded in
obtaining an open competition for the work in question; whoever chose,
was at liberty to send in his picture, and the best would obtain the
preference. Having brought this about, he secluded himself in his studio
and applied himself to the task with intense ardour, summoning up all
his great energy, skill, and experience of art. As w