go such an acquisition. They grew
warm, and would probably have run the bidding up to an impossible sum,
had not one of the onlookers suddenly exclaimed, "Permit me to interrupt
your competition for a while: I, perhaps, more than any other, have a
right to this portrait."

These words at once drew the attention of all to him. He was a tall
man of thirty-five, with long black curls. His pleasant face, full of
a certain bright nonchalance, indicated a mind free from all wearisome,
worldly excitement; his garments had no pretence to fashion: all
about him indicated the artist. He was, in fact, B. the painter, a man
personally well known to many of those present.

"However strange my words may seem to you," he continued, perceiving
that the general attention was directed to him, "if you will listen to
a short story, you may possibly see that I was right in uttering them.
Everything assures me that this is the portrait which I am looking for."

A natural curiosity illuminated the faces of nearly all present; and
even the auctioneer paused as he was opening his mouth, and with hammer
uplifted in the air, prepared to listen. At the beginning of the story,
many glanced involuntarily towards the portrait; but later on, all bent
their attention solely on the narrator, as his tale grew gradually more
absorbing.

"You know that portion of the city which is called Kolomna," he began.
"There everything is unlike anything else in St. Petersburg. Retired
officials remove thither to live; widows; people not very well off, who
have acquaintances in the senate, and therefore condemn themselves to
this for nearly the whole of their lives; and, in short, that whole list
of people who can be described by the words ash-coloured--people whose
garments, faces, hair, eyes, have a sort of ashy surface, like a day
when there is in the sky neither cloud nor sun. Among them may be
retired actors, retired titular councillors, retired sons of Mars, with
ruined eyes and swollen lips.

"Life in Kolomna is terribly dull: rarely does a carriage appear,
except, perhaps, one containing an actor, which disturbs the universal
stillness by its rumble, noise, and jingling. You can get lodgings
for five rubles a month, coffee in the morning included. Widows
with pensions are the most aristocratic families there; they conduct
themselves well, sweep their rooms often, chatter with their friends
about the dearness of beef and cabbage, and frequently have a you