THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP.
As Richard made his way homeward, he seemed to himself to be riding on
a winged steed. He was entirely satisfied with the issue of that day's
adventure. Reviewing in imagination the temptation to which he had
been exposed, he exulted in the victory he had won over himself.
Consequently, when he reA"ntered his bachelor quarters, he could not
but feel an unwelcome sensation as his eye fell on certain objects
that he would gladly have banished from sight. They were sundry
souvenirs of certain love affairs, and no longer possessed the value
in his eyes that they had once had.
Summoning Paul, he bade him make a fire.
"But the wood is so confoundedly wet that it won't burn," returned the
old hussar.
At this Richard rummaged in the drawer of his writing-desk and
produced a bundle of letters, whose delicate tint and perfume betrayed
their probable nature. "There," said he, "take these; they will start
the fire."
This order gave old Paul much pleasure, and soon the billets-doux were
blazing merrily on the hearth.
"Paul," began Richard after a pause, "to-morrow we break up and go
away for the annual manA"uvres."
The old soldier showed his satisfaction at this announcement.
"But we can't take all this trumpery with us," added the young
officer. "You'll have to sell the furniture, but the souvenirs,
pictures, and embroideries may be thrown into the fire."
Paul bowed dutifully.
Opposite the young man's bed hung a large oil painting in a great gilt
frame; it was the portrait of a famous beauty who had caused herself
to be painted as DanaA", and had presented the picture to Richard. The
latter now bade his servant get rid of it with the rest of the
rubbish. After thoroughly ransacking his drawers for old love-letters,
faded flowers, bits of ribbon, and other miscellaneous articles, he
left the entire collection for old Paul to destroy, while he himself
went out with a lightened conscience to his supper.
The next morning, when Paul brought his master's boots, Richard made
some remark on the thoroughness with which his faithful servant had
executed his orders. "But surely," he added, "you can't have burnt up
the frame of the large painting. What has become of it?"
"Do you suppose I burnt up the picture, either?" asked Paul in his
turn. "I am not so crazy as to throw a fine work of art like that into
the fire."
"What then have you done with it?" demanded the other, kicking off his
bedclothes. "You haven't pawned it, I hope?"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Captain Baradlay said I was to get rid
of it," he replied.
"Yes, and that meant that it was to be burnt up," declared Richard.
"Well," returned the servant, "I understood you to mean that it was to
be carried to old Solomon and sold for what it would bring."
"And is that what you did with it?"
"There's where it is now."
Richard was very near being downright angry with his old servant. "Go
at once and bring the painting back!" he commanded, as sternly as he
could.
But old Paul was not one to be easily disconcerted. Laying his
master's stockings within their owner's reach, he replied, with
unruffled composure: "Solomon will not give it back to me."
"Not if I demand it?"
"He sends his compliments to Captain Baradlay, and begs him to have
the goodness to go and speak with him in person about the picture,"
returned the old hussar, handing Richard his trousers.
The young officer fairly lost his temper. "Paul, you are a donkey!" he
exclaimed.
Quickly, and with no little vexation, the hussar officer completed his
toilet and hastened to old Solomon's shop in Porcelain Street, before
the Jew should hang the picture where it could be seen and, perhaps,
recognised.
Solomon's establishment was a little basement shop, lying lower than
the sidewalk and lighted only from the door, which was consequently
always kept open. On both sides of the entrance old furniture was
placed on exhibition, while within was gathered such a heterogeneous
collection of all sorts of second-hand wares as fairly baffles
description. But the most ancient and curious object in the whole shop
was its owner, who sat in a big leather armchair, wrapped in a long
caftan, fur shoes on his feet and a fur cap tilted over his eyes.
There he was wont to sit all day long, rising only to wait on a
customer. The leather covering of his chair-cushion was worn through
with long service and had been replaced by a sheet of blotting-paper.
Solomon was in the habit of opening his shop early and taking his seat
in the doorway; for no one could tell when good luck might bring him a
customer. It was hardly eight o'clock when Richard strode down the
narrow street and paused at the old Jew's door.
"Is this Solomon's shop?" he asked.
The old man in the caftan drew his feet from under his chair, rose
from his seat, and, pushing back his fur cap so that his caller might
have a good view of his smiling face, made answer:
"Your humble servant, sir. This is the place, and I shall be most
happy to serve Captain Baradlay."
"Oh, do you know me?" asked the young officer, in surprise.
"Why should I not know Captain Baradlay?" returned the old man, with
an ingratiating smile. "I know him very well, and he is a man I am
proud to know."
Richard could not imagine how this acquaintance had risen. It was
hardly probable that he had ever met Solomon at a military review or a
court ball, and he was sure he had never borrowed any money of the old
Jew.
"Then you doubtless know also," said he, "that I have come to see you
concerning a picture that my servant left here yesterday by mistake. I
did not intend to offer it for sale."
"Yes, yes," rejoined the Jew, "I know that very well, and for that
reason I made bold to request the favour of a visit from you to my
poor establishment, in order that we might talk about the picture."
"There is nothing more to be said about it," interposed Richard, with
vexation. "I will not sell it; I am going to destroy it."
"But, my dear sir," protested the other, smiling blandly, "why lose
our temper over the matter? That is bad for the health. I certainly
have no intention of retaining the picture by force. I merely desired
the honour of a call from you, and you are perfectly free to do as you
choose in the matter. We like to cultivate new acquaintances. Who
knows but they may be useful some day? Do me the honour, Captain, to
enter my house. The painting is up-stairs. Pray walk up."
Richard complied and ascended to the next floor, while the Jew locked
his shop-door before following him. Reaching the head of the stairs,
the young man was astonished at what met his eyes. He almost thought
himself in a royal museum. Three communicating apartments were filled
with the costliest articles of luxury,--carved furniture, Japanese and
Etruscan vases, rare old china, jewelry of the finest workmanship,
ancient armour and weapons, and many masterpieces of painting and
sculpture.
"Well, how do you like the looks of things up here?" asked Solomon,
when he had rejoined his guest. "It is worth while coming up to look
around a little, isn't it?"
Richard could not sate himself with examining all that met his view.
Meanwhile the Jew continued his confidential chat.
"The gentlemen and ladies," said he, "even those in the very highest
circles, honour me with their patronage and confidence, knowing that I
can be as mum as an oyster. I know who sent in each one of these
articles,--one from Count So-and-so, another from Prince Blank, a
third from Baron X----, and so on; but no secret of that kind ever
passes my lips. Solomon knows the history of all these things, and why
they were sold, but he never breathes a word to any mortal soul."
"Very commendable on his part, I am sure," assented Richard; "but
where is my picture?"
"Why in such a hurry?" asked the other. "Am I likely to run off with
it? Have the kindness to look around a bit, and meantime perhaps we
can drive a little bargain."
"No, not so far as the painting is concerned," declared the hussar
officer. "It is a portrait; and, even though I may be at odds with the
original, yet I cannot insult her by selling her likeness."
The old shopkeeper drew his guest with him into the adjoining room,
whose walls were covered with portraits of all sorts and sizes, in
oil, water-colours, and pastel, mostly representing young men and
women, while a pile of unframed pictures stood in one corner.
"How did you ever get hold of so many portraits?" asked the astonished
visitor.
"Oh, that is simple enough," replied the Jew; "you see, young people
have a way of falling in love and then falling out again. They hang a
portrait over their bed, and presently their taste changes and another
takes its place. Then when a young gentleman wishes to marry, he finds
it inadvisable, to keep a lot of strange portraits in his house."
"And so he sells them?" asked Richard.
Solomon made a significant gesture with his open hands. "Judge for
yourself," said he.
"Well," rejoined the other, "I am not much surprised at people's
selling some of these faces; but how in the world do you find
purchasers for them. Who would ever want one of this collection?"
Solomon smiled knowingly, and tilted forward and backward on his toes
and heels.
"I know the original of your picture," said he. "She visits me
occasionally. What if she should see her likeness among the others?
That kind of costume-portrait always fetches a magnificent price."
"Such an injury, however," declared the cavalry officer, "I will not
do her. Though we may not be on the best of terms, I will not give her
cause to despise me."
"A most praiseworthy determination!" exclaimed the dealer, warmly.
"But may I ask whether you are thinking of marrying, and so wish to
put another portrait in the old one's place? In that case, at what
price would you part with this Miss DanaA"?"
Richard made an impatient movement. "I have already told you that I
will not sell the picture," said he. "I demand it back."
"Well, well, no offence," returned the other, soothingly. "I didn't
presume to offer you any ten or twenty florins for it; that would be
an insult to a Richard Baradlay. But, how about an exchange for some
other beautiful picture,--some mythological study? I have a large
collection to choose from."
Richard laughed in spite of himself. "No, friend Solomon," said he,
"we can't make a trade to-day. I will not give the DanaA" in exchange
for any picture, however beautiful or mythological. I won't exchange
it for all the world."
"Well, well, why so positive? Supposing we should find something,
after all. Let's look around a bit; it won't cost us anything."
So saying, the old dealer drew his guest toward the pile of unframed
portraits leaning against the wall in a corner, and began to turn them
over, one by one. Suddenly the young man at his side uttered a
passionate interjection.
"Aha!" cried the Jew, in triumph; "have we found something at last
worth hunting for?" And he drew out the picture that had caused the
other's hasty exclamation, dusted it with his sleeve, and held it up
to the light, where Richard could see it.
"That is my portrait!" cried the young man.
"Yes, to be sure, it is," replied the other. "It has been here six
months or so. Miss DanaA", as you see, was less scrupulous than you,
and she sold it to me half a year ago. Five silver florins was the
price I paid for it."
"And what will you take for the picture now?"
"This picture? Your own picture? As I have already said, I'll give it
in exchange."
"Done!" cried Richard.
"Ah, Captain, you are too hasty in closing a bargain," said the old
man. "Be more cautious. Any one but old Solomon would be likely to
take advantage of you. You might have made me pay you something to
boot."
"Send home my picture, and I shall be glad enough to wash my hands of
the whole affair," returned Richard. "After that you may squeeze Miss
DanaA" for a million, as far as I am concerned."
"Oh, Captain," protested the Jew, in an injured tone, "Solomon never
does that sort of thing; he always does what is right and just. Every
man knows his worth, and Solomon is content with whatever price is
named. He is no extortioner. Look here, just to show you how fair I
am, I want to call your attention to the frame. We agreed to exchange
the pictures, but how about the frame?"
"What frame?"
"Why, the frame to the DanaA". She sent me your portrait without any
frame. Probably she used it for another picture. So you see the frame
to your DanaA" isn't included in the bargain."
The old man's anxiety to be fair began to vex Richard. "Oh, don't
worry about the frame!" he cried, impatiently. "Surely you don't want
me to insist on your paying five florins for it?"
"Well, well, why waste so much noble wrath?" rejoined the old dealer.
"A paltry five florins, indeed! I made you no such pitiful offer, but
I have all sorts of curiosities here that might please Captain
Baradlay. Suppose we arrange another little trade. Let us look about
for a few moments; it won't cost us anything. I have some splendid
weapons here,--all sorts of swords and daggers."
"Thank you, but I am already supplied. I have a whole arsenal of them
at home."
"But what if we should find something here that you lack?" persisted
the Jew. "It won't cost you a penny to look around. Perhaps we can
make another trade, after all. Well, well, I won't mention the frame;
I'll merely reckon it in and charge you so much the less for anything
here that may take your fancy. You shall pay me something in cash, so
that a florin, at least, may pass between us. You see, we have a
superstition that, unless the first sale of the day leaves us with a
little money in our hand, even though it be but the merest trifle, the
whole day will be unlucky. For that reason the first customer in the
morning is likely to make a good bargain on his purchase; for we won't
let him go without selling him something, even if we are forced to
sell below cost, just so that we see the colour of his money."
Richard yielded perforce to the old man's importunity and followed him
into a third room, which was filled with a large assortment of armour
and weapons of all nations.
"A regular arsenal, isn't it?" exclaimed Solomon, rubbing his hands
complacently.
The young officer felt in his element as, with the eye of a
connoisseur, he surveyed the splendid collection. Suddenly his
attention was arrested by a brown blade with a simple hilt and without
a scabbard. He took it up and examined it more closely.
"Aha!" cried the dealer, much pleased, "you've hit it the first time.
I was sure it wouldn't escape the eye of an expert. That is a genuine
Crivelli blade, and I have been offered ten ducats for it; but I won't
part with it for less than fifteen. It is positively genuine, no
imitation."
Richard held the sword up to the light. "That is not a Crivelli," he
declared.
The dealer was deeply injured. "Sir," he protested, "Solomon never
deceives. When I say it is a genuine Crivelli, you may trust my word
for it." Therewith he bent the blade in his trembling hands and
caused it to encircle his visitor's waist like a belt. "See there!" he
cried triumphantly; "the point kisses the hilt."
"Good!" exclaimed the other, taking the sword from him again; "and now
I'll show you a little trick, if you have an old musket that is of no
use."
"Take any you choose," returned Solomon, pointing to a pyramid of
rusty firearms.
Richard selected one of the heaviest and leaned it obliquely against
the pile, barrel upward. "Now stand aside a little, please," said he.
The old Jew drew back and watched the young man curiously. The latter
gave the sword a quick swing through the air and brought it down
sharply on the musket-barrel, which fell in two pieces to the floor,
cleanly severed. Old Solomon was lost in amazement. First he examined
the sword-blade, next the divided musket-barrel, and then he felt of
Richard's arm.
"Heavens and earth, that was a stroke!" he exclaimed. "When I cut an
orange in two I have to try three times before I succeed. You are a
man I am proud to know, Captain Baradlay,--a man of giant strength!
Such a thick musket-barrel, and cut in two with one stroke as if it
were of paper!"
"This sword is not a Crivelli," repeated Richard, as he returned the
weapon; "it is a genuine Al-Bohacen Damascus blade, and worth,
between you and me, one hundred ducats."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the Jew, with a deprecatory gesture of both
hands. "I have named the price as fifteen ducats, no more and no less.
That is my figure; but if Captain Baradlay will give the DanaA" and
frame, with one ducat into the bargain, he may have the sword. I won't
sleep another night under the same roof with such a weapon."
Richard smiled. "But the DanaA" I have already exchanged for my own
portrait," said he.
"Oh, your portrait doesn't go out of my house now for any money,"
declared the Jew. "This is the first time in my life that a gentleman
has said to me: 'Solomon, what you offer me for fifteen ducats is
worth not fifteen, but a hundred; it is not a Crivelli, but an
Al-Bohacen.' Such another portrait is not to be found in all the
world. It is a rarity, it is unique. No, no, that portrait doesn't
leave my house; it stays here. Take the sword and pay me a ducat to
boot; then we shall be quits."
The young man hesitated. Solomon guessed his thoughts. "Have no fear,
sir," he hastened to add reassuringly; "no one shall see your portrait
in my house. I will hang it up in my bedroom, of which, since my
wife's decease, I am the sole occupant, and which no stranger will
ever enter. What do you say? Do you agree to the terms?"
Richard gave his hand to the dealer in sign of assent.
"Very well, then. Now pay me a ducat into the bargain." The old Jew
touched the coin with his lips and then dropped it into his long
purse. "Let me wrap up the sword for you," he added. "My servant shall
deliver it at your door. I am truly delighted to have had the honour;
and perhaps it won't be the last time, either. If Captain Baradlay is
about to marry, I am always at his service. I deal in all the rare and
beautiful things that ever charmed a pair of pretty eyes."
"Thank you," returned Richard; "but she whom I am to marry does not
expect to live in a palace."
"So she is a poor girl, is she?" asked the old man. "Tell me, have I
guessed aright?"
But the young officer would not tarry longer; he moved toward the door
and prepared to take his leave.
"Very well, then," said the dealer; "I won't trouble the captain with
any more questions. But old Solomon knows a good many things of which
other folks never dream. Captain Baradlay, you are a man of gold--no,
I mean of steel, Damascene steel. You know, of course, how that is
made: gold and steel are wrought into one. Only remain as you are
now,--of gold and steel. I will not pry into your affairs, but let me
ask you to remember the old shopkeeper at Number 3 Porcelain Street.
I tell you, an honest man is not met with every day. Remember my
words. Some day you will fall in with old Solomon again, and then you
will understand what I mean."