the mysterious portrait-第4章

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In　it　were　ducats；　all　new；　and　bright　as　fire。　Almost　beside　himself；

he　sat　down　beside　the　pile　of　gold；　still　asking　himself；　〃Is　not

this　all　a　dream？〃　There　were　just　a　thousand　in　the　roll；　the

exterior　of　which　was　precisely　like　what　he　had　seen　in　his　dream。　He

turned　them　over；　and　looked　at　them　for　some　minutes。　His　imagination

recalled　up　all　the　tales　he　had　heard　of　hidden　hoards；　cabinets　with

secret　drawers；　left　by　ancestors　for　their　spendthrift　descendants；

with　firm　belief　in　the　extravagance　of　their　life。　He　pondered　this：

〃Did　not　some　grandfather；　in　the　present　instance；　leave　a　gift　for

his　grandchild；　shut　up　in　the　frame　of　a　family　portrait？〃　Filled

with　romantic　fancies；　he　began　to　think　whether　this　had　not　some

secret　connection　with　his　fate？　whether　the　existence　of　the　portrait

was　not　bound　up　with　his　own；　and　whether　his　acquisition　of　it　was

not　due　to　a　kind　of　predestination？



He　began　to　examine　the　frame　with　curiosity。　On　one　side　a　cavity　was

hollowed　out；　but　concealed　so　skilfully　and　neatly　by　a　little　board；

that；　if　the　massive　hand　of　the　constable　had　not　effected　a　breach；

the　ducats　might　have　remained　hidden　to　the　end　of　time。　On　examining

the　portrait；　he　marvelled　again　at　the　exquisite　workmanship；　the

extraordinary　treatment　of　the　eyes。　They　no　longer　appeared　terrible

to　him；　but；　nevertheless；　each　time　he　looked　at　them　a　disagreeable

feeling　involuntarily　lingered　in　his　mind。



〃No；〃　he　said　to　himself；　〃no　matter　whose　grandfather　you　were；　I'll

put　a　glass　over　you；　and　get　you　a　gilt　frame。〃　Then　he　laid　his　hand

on　the　golden　pile　before　him；　and　his　heart　beat　faster　at　the　touch。

〃What　shall　I　do　with　them？〃　he　said；　fixing　his　eyes　on　them。　〃Now　I

am　independent　for　at　least　three　years：　I　can　shut　myself　up　in　my

room　and　work。　I　have　money　for　colours　now；　for　food　and　lodgingno

one　will　annoy　and　disturb　me　now。　I　will　buy　myself　a　first…class　lay

figure；　I　will　order　a　plaster　torso；　and　some　model　feet；　I　will　have

a　Venus。　I　will　buy　engravings　of　the　best　pictures。　And　if　I　work

three　years　to　satisfy　myself；　without　haste　or　with　the　idea　of

selling；　I　shall　surpass　all；　and　may　become　a　distinguished　artist。〃



Thus　he　spoke　in　solitude；　with　his　good　judgment　prompting　him；　but

louder　and　more　distinct　sounded　another　voice　within　him。　As　he

glanced　once　more　at　the　gold；　it　was　not　thus　that　his　twenty…two

years　and　fiery　youth　reasoned。　Now　everything　was　within　his　power　on

which　he　had　hitherto　gazed　with　envious　eyes；　had　viewed　from　afar

with　longing。　How　his　heart　beat　when　he　thought　of　it！　To　wear　a

fashionable　coat；　to　feast　after　long　abstinence；　to　hire　handsome

apartments；　to　go　at　once　to　the　theatre；　to　the　confectioner's；

to　。　。　。　other　places；　and　seizing　his　money；　he　was　in　the　street　in

a　moment。



First　of　all　he　went　to　the　tailor；　was　clothed　anew　from　head　to

foot；　and　began　to　look　at　himself　like　a　child。　He　purchased　perfumes

and　pomades；　hired　the　first　elegant　suite　of　apartments　with　mirrors

and　plateglass　windows　which　he　came　across　in　the　Nevsky　Prospect；

without　haggling　about　the　price；　bought；　on　the　impulse　of　the

moment；　a　costly　eye…glass；　bought；　also　on　the　impulse；　a　number　of

neckties　of　every　description；　many　more　than　he　needed；　had　his　hair

curled　at　the　hairdresser's；　rode　through　the　city　twice　without　any

object　whatever；　ate　an　immense　quantity　of　sweetmeats　at　the

confectioner's；　and　went　to　the　French　Restaurant；　of　which　he　had

heard　rumours　as　indistinct　as　though　they　had　concerned　the　Empire　of

China。　There　he　dined；　casting　proud　glances　at　the　other　visitors；

and　continually　arranging　his　curls　in　the　glass。　There　he　drank　a

bottle　of　champagne；　which　had　been　known　to　him　hitherto　only　by

hearsay。　The　wine　rather　affected　his　head；　and　he　emerged　into　the

street；　lively；　pugnacious；　and　ready　to　raise　the　Devil；　according　to

the　Russian　expression。　He　strutted　along　the　pavement；　levelling　his

eye…glass　at　everybody。　On　the　bridge　he　caught　sight　of　his　former

professor；　and　slipped　past　him　neatly；　as　if　he　did　not　see　him；　so

that　the　astounded　professor　stood　stock…still　on　the　bridge　for　a

long　time；　with　a　face　suggestive　of　a　note　of　interrogation。



All　his　goods　and　chattels；　everything　he　owned；　easels；　canvas；

pictures；　were　transported　that　same　evening　to　his　elegant　quarters。

He　arranged　the　best　of　them　in　conspicuous　places；　threw　the　worst

into　a　corner；　and　promenaded　up　and　down　the　handsome　rooms；　glancing

constantly　in　the　mirrors。　An　unconquerable　desire　to　take　the　bull　by

the　horns；　and　show　himself　to　the　world　at　once；　had　arisen　in　his

mind。　He　already　heard　the　shouts；　〃Tchartkoff！　Tchartkoff！　Tchartkoff

paints！　What　talent　Tchartkoff　has！〃　He　paced　the　room　in　a　state　of

rapture。



The　next　day　he　took　ten　ducats；　and　went　to　the　editor　of　a　popular

journal　asking　his　charitable　assistance。　He　was　joyfully　received　by

the　journalist；　who　called　him　on　the　spot；　〃Most　respected　sir；〃

squeezed　both　his　hands；　and　made　minute　inquiries　as　to　his　name；

birthplace；　residence。　The　next　day　there　appeared　in　the　journal；

below　a　notice　of　some　newly　invented　tallow　candles；　an　article　with

the　following　heading：



〃TCHARTKOFF'S　IMMENSE　TALENT



〃We　hasten　to　delight　the　cultivated　inhabitants　of　the　capital　with　a

discovery　which　we　may　call　splendid　in　every　respect。　All　are　agreed

that　there　are　among　us　many　very　handsome　faces；　but　hitherto　there

has　been　no　means　of　committing　them　to　canvas　for　transmission　to

posterity。　This　want　has　now　been　supplied：　an　artist　has　been　found

who　unites　in　himself　all　desirable　qualities。　The　beauty　can　now　feel

assured　that　she　will　be　depicted　with　all　the　grace　of　her　charms；

airy；　fascinating；　butterfly…like；　flitting　among　the　flowers　of

spring。　The　stately　father　of　a　family　can　see　himself　surrounded　by

his　family。　Merchant；　warrior；　citizen；　statesmanhasten　one　and　all；

wherever　you　may　be。　The　artist's　magnificent　establishment　＇Nevsky

Prospect；　such　and　such　a　number＇　is　hung　with　portraits　from　his

brush；　worthy　of　Van　Dyck　or　Titian。　We　do　not　know　which　to　admire

most；　their　truth　and　likeness　to　the　originals；　or　the　wonderful

brilliancy　and　freshness　of　the　colouring。　Hail　to　you；　artist！　you

have　drawn　a　lucky　number　in　the　lottery。　Long　live　Andrei

Petrovitch！〃　（The　journalist　evidently　liked　familiarity。）　〃Glorify

yourself　and　us。　We　know　how　to　prize　you。　Universal　popularity；　and

with　it　wealth；　will　be　your　meed；　though　some　of　our　brother

journalists　may　rise　against　you。〃



The　artist　read　this　article　with　secret　satisfaction；　his　face

beamed。　He　was　mentioned　in　print；　it　was　a　novelty　to　him：　he　read

the　lines　over　several　times。　The　comparison　with　Van　Dyck　and　Titian

flattered　him　extremely。　The　praise；　〃Long　live　Andrei　Petrovitch；〃

also　pleased　him　greatly：　to　be　spoken　of　by　his　Christian　name　and

patronymic　in　print　was　an　honour　hitherto　totally　unknown　to　him。　He

began　to　pace　the　chamber　briskly；　now　he　sat　down　in　an　armchair；　now

he　sprang　up；　and　seated　himself　on　the　sofa；　planning　each　moment　how

he　would　receive　visitors；　male　and　female；　he　went　to　his　canvas　and

made　a　rapid　sweep　of　the　brush；　endeavouring　to　impart　a　graceful

movement　to　his　hand。



The　next　day；　the　bell　at　his　door　rang。　He　hastened　to　open　it。　A

lady　entered；　accompanied　by　a　girl　of　eighteen；　her　daughter；　and

followed　by　a　lackey　in　a　furred　livery…coat。



〃You　are　the　painter　Tchartkoff？〃



The　artist　bowed。



〃A　great　deal　is　written　about　you：　your　portraits；　it　is　said；　are

the　height　of　perfection。〃　So　saying；　the　lady　raised　her　glass　to　her

eyes　and　glanced　rapidly　over　the　walls；　upon　which　nothing　was

hanging。　〃But　where　are　your　portraits？〃



〃They　have　been　taken　away〃　replied　the　artist；　somewhat　confusedly：

〃I　have　but　just　moved　into　these　apartments；　so　they　are　still　on　the

road；　they　have　not　arrived。〃



〃You　have　been　in　Italy？〃　asked　the　lady；　levelling　her　glass　at　him；

as　she　found　nothing　else　to　point　it　at。



〃No；　I　have　not　been　there；　but　I　wish　to　go；　and　I　have　deferred　it

for　a　while。　Here　is　an　arm…chair；　madame：　you　are　fatigued？〃



〃Thank　you：　I　have　been　sitting　a　long　time　in　the　carriage。　Ah；　at

last　I　behold　your　work！〃　said　the　lady；　running　to　the　opposite　wall；

and　bringing　her　glass　to　bear　upon　his　studies；　sketches；　views　and

portraits　which　were　standing　there　on　the　floor。　〃It　is　charming。

Lise！　Lise；　come　here。　Rooms　in　the　style　of　Teniers。　Do　you　see？

Disorder；　disorder；　a　table　with　a　bust　upon　it；　a　hand；　a　palette；

dust；　see　how　the　dust　is　painted！　It　is　charming。　And　here　on　this

canvas　is　a　woman　washing　her　face。　What　a　pretty　face！　Ah！　a　little

muzhik！　So　you　do　not　devote　yourself　exclusively　to　portraits？〃



〃Oh！　that　is　mere　rubbish。　I　was　trying　experiments；　studies。〃



〃Tell　me　your　opinion　of　the　portrait　painters　of　the　present　day。　Is

it　not　true　that　there　are　none　now　like　Titian？　There　is　not　that

strength　of　colour；　thatthat　What　a　pity　that　I　cannot　express

myself　in　Russian。〃　The　lady　was　fond　of　paintings；　and　had　gone

through　all　the　galleries　in　Italy　with　her　eye…glass。　〃But　Monsieur

Nohlah；　how　well　he　paints！　what　remarkable　work！　I　think　his　faces

have　been　more　expression　than　Titian's。　You　do　not　know　Monsieur

Nohl？〃



〃Who　is　Nohl？〃　inquired　the　artist。



〃Monsieur　Nohl。　Ah；　what　talent！　He　painted　her　portrait　when　she　was

only　twelve　years　old。　You　must　certainly　come　to　see　us。　Lise；　you

shall　show　him　your　album。　You　know；　we　came　expressly　that　you　might

begin　her　portrait　immediately。〃



〃What？　I　am　ready　this　very　moment。〃　And　in　a　trice　he　pulled　forward

an　easel　with　a　canvas　already　prepared；　grasped　his　palette；　and

fixed　his　eyes　on　the　daughter's　pretty　little　face。　If　he　had　been

acquainted　with　human　nature；　he　might　have　read　in　it　the　dawning　of

a　childish　passion　for　balls；　the　dawning　of　sorrow　and　misery　at　the

length　of　time　before　dinner　and　after　dinner；　the　heavy　traces　of

uninterested　application　to　various　arts；　insisted　upon　by　her　mother

for　the　elevation　of　her　mind。　But　the　artist　saw　only　the　tender

little　face；　a　seductive　subject　for　his　brush；　the　body　almost　as

transparent　as　porcelain；　the　delicate　white　neck；　and　the

aristocratically　slender　form。　And　he　prepared　beforehand　to　triumph；

to　display　the　delicacy　of　his　brush；　which　had　hitherto　had　to　deal

only　with　the　harsh　features　of　coarse　models；　and　severe　antiques　and

copies　of　classic　masters。　He　already　saw　in　fancy　how　this　delicate

little　face　would　turn　out。



〃Do　you　know；〃　said　the　lady　with　a　positively　touching　expression　of

countenance；　〃I　should　like　her　to　be　painted　simply　attired；　and

seated　among