“It is a view of the Abbey of Newburg, with its village and the surrounding landscape,” replied the eager and trembling artist.

The auctioneer again scanned it contemptuously, and asked what it was worth.  “Oh, that is what you please; whatever it will bring,” answered Duhobret.

“Hem! it is too odd to please, I should think; I can promise you no more than three thalers.”

Poor Samuel sighed deeply.  He had spent on that piece the nights of many months.  But he was starving now; and the pitiful sum offered would give bread for a few days.  He nodded his head to the auctioneer, and retiring took his seat in a corner.

The sale began.  After some paintings and engravings had been disposed of, Samuel’s was exhibited.  “Who bids at three thalers?  Who bids?” was the cry.  Duhobret listened eagerly, but none answered.  “Will it find a purchaser?” said he despondingly, to himself.  Still there was a dead silence.  He dared not look up; for it seemed to him that all the people were laughing at the folly of the artist, who could be insane enough to offer so worthless a piece at a public sale.

“What will become of me?” was his mental inquiry.  “That work is certainly my best;” and he ventured to steal another glance.  “Does it not seem that the wind actually stirs those boughs and moves those leaves!  How transparent is the water!  What life breathes in the animals that quench their thirst at that spring!  How that steeple shines!  How beautiful are those clustering trees!” This was the last expiring throb of an artist’s vanity.  The ominous silence continued, and Samuel, sick at heart, buried his face in his hands.

“Twenty-one thalers!” murmured a faint voice, just as the auctioneer was about to knock down the picture.  The stupefied painter gave a start of joy.  He raised his head and looked to see from whose lips those blessed words had come.  It was the picture dealer, to whom he had first thought of applying.

“Fifty thalers,” cried a sonorous voice.  This time a tall man in black was the speaker.  There was a silence of hushed expectation.  “One hundred thalers,” at length thundered the picture dealer.

“Three hundred!” “Five hundred!” “One thousand!” Another profound silence, and the crowd pressed around the two opponents, who stood opposite each other with eager and angry looks.

“Two thousand thalers!” cried the picture dealer, and glanced around him triumphantly, when he saw his adversary hesitate.  “Ten thousand!” vociferated the tall man, his face crimson with rage, and his hands clinched convulsively.  The dealer grew paler; his frame shook with agitation; he made two or three efforts, and at last cried out “Twenty thousand!”

His tall opponent was not to be vanquished.  He bid forty thousand.  The dealer stopped; the other laughed a low laugh of insolent triumph, and a murmur of admiration was heard in the crowd.  It was too much for the dealer; he felt his peace was at stake.  “Fifty thousand!” exclaimed he in desperation.  It was the tall man’s turn to hesitate.  Again the whole crowd were breathless.  At length, tossing his arms in defiance, he shouted “One hundred thousand!” The crestfallen picture dealer withdrew; the tall man victoriously bore away the prize.