oke
his brushes and easels, tore down the usurer's portrait from the
wall, demanded a knife, and ordered a fire to be built in the chimney,
intending to cut it in pieces and burn it. A friend, an artist, caught
him in the act as he entered the room--a jolly fellow, always satisfied
with himself, inflated by unattainable wishes, doing daily anything
that came to hand, and taking still more gaily to his dinner and little
carouses.

"'What are you doing? What are you preparing to burn?' he asked, and
stepped up to the portrait. 'Why, this is one of your very best works.
It is the usurer who died a short time ago: yes, it is a most perfect
likeness. You did not stop until you had got into his very eyes. Never
did eyes look as these do now.'

"'Well, I'll see how they look in the fire!' said my father, making a
movement to fling the portrait into the grate.

"'Stop, for Heaven's sake!' exclaimed his friend, restraining him: 'give
it to me, rather, if it offends your eyes to such a degree.' My father
resisted, but yielded at length; and the jolly fellow, well pleased with
his acquisition, carried the portrait home with him.

"When he was gone, my father felt more calm. The burden seemed to have
disappeared from his soul in company with the portrait. He was surprised
himself at his evil feelings, his envy, and the evident change in his
character. Reviewing his acts, he became sad at heart; and not without
inward sorrow did he exclaim, 'No, it was God who punished me! my
picture, in fact, was meant to ruin my brother-man. A devilish feeling
of envy guided my brush, and that devilish feeling must have made itself
visible in it.'

"He set out at once to seek his former pupil, embraced him warmly,
begged his forgiveness, and endeavoured as far as possible to excuse
his own fault. His labours continued as before; but his face was more
frequently thoughtful. He prayed more, grew more taciturn, and expressed
himself less sharply about people: even the rough exterior of his
character was modified to some extent. But a certain occurrence soon
disturbed him more than ever. He had seen nothing for a long time of the
comrade who had begged the portrait of him. He had already decided to
hunt him up, when the latter suddenly made his appearance in his room.
After a few words and questions on both sides, he said, 'Well, brother,
it was not without cause that you wished to burn that portrait. Devil
take it, there's something horrible ab