t last, seeing a porter come out of the house with a piece of furniture
on his shoulder, he decided to go in. He ran rapidly up the stairs. From
the landing already he could hear the voice of the auctioneer.

The sale was going on in the largest room of the suite--the one in which
the Buddha had stood. The buyers were gathered round the auctioneer's
table. They were, for the most part, shopkeepers, second-hand furniture
dealers and the lower classes generally. There being little competition
in summer when town was empty, the dealers rushed in, sure of obtaining
costly articles for next to nothing. A vile odour permeated the hot air
exhaled by the crowd of dirty and perspiring people.

Andrea felt stifled. He wandered into the other rooms, where nothing had
been left but the wall hangings, the curtains, and the portieres, the
other things having been collected in the sale room. Although he was
walking on a thick carpet, he heard his footsteps as distinctly as if
the boards had been bare.

He found himself presently in a semicircular room. The walls were deep
red, with here and there a sparkle of gold, giving the impression of a
temple or a tomb, a sad and mysterious sanctuary fit for praying in, or
for dying. The crude, hard light blazing in through the open windows
seemed like a violation.

He returned to the auction room. Again he breathed the nauseating
atmosphere. He turned round, and in a corner of the room perceived the
Princess of Ferentino and Barbarella Viti. He bowed and went over to
them.

'Well, Ugenta, what have you bought?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing? Why, I should have thought you would buy everything.'

'Indeed, why?'

'Oh, it was just an idea of mine--a romantic idea.'

The princess laughed and Barbarella joined in.

'We are going. It is impossible to stay any longer in this perfume.
Good-bye, Ugenta--console yourself!'

Andrea went to the auctioneer's table. The man recognised him.

'Does the Signor Conte wish for anything in particular?'

'I will see,' Andrea answered.

The sale proceeded rapidly. He looked about him at the low faces of the
dealers, felt their elbows pushing him, their feet touching his, their
horrid breath upon him. Nausea gripped his throat.

'Going--going--gone!'

The stroke of the hammer rang like a knell through his heart and set his
temples throbbing painfully.

He bought the Buddha, a great carved cabinet, some china, some pieces
of drapery. Presently he heard