The physician van Tromp
instructing his pupils.
In all, there were one hundred and fifty pictures, varnished and
dusted. Some were covered with green baize curtains which were not
undrawn in presence of young ladies.
Pierre Grassou stood with arms pendent, gaping mouth, and no word upon
his lips as he recognized half his own pictures in these works of art.
He was Rubens, he was Rembrandt, Mieris, Metzu, Paul Potter, Gerard
Douw! He was twenty great masters all by himself.
"What is the matter? You've turned pale!"
"Daughter, a glass of water! quick!" cried Madame Vervelle. The
painter took pere Vervelle by the button of his coat and led him to a
corner on pretence of looking at a Murillo. Spanish pictures were then
the rage.
"You bought your pictures from Elie Magus?"
"Yes, all originals."
"Between ourselves, tell me what he made you pay for those I shall
point out to you."
Together they walked round the gallery. The guests were amazed at the
gravity in which the artist proceeded, in company with the host, to
examine each picture.
"Three thousand francs," said Vervelle in a whisper, as they reached
the last, "but I tell everybody forty thousand."
"Forty thousand for a Titian!" said the artist, aloud. "Why, it is
nothing at all!"
"Didn't I tell you," said Vervelle, "that I had three hundred thousand
francs' worth of pictures?"
"I painted those pictures," said Pierre Grassou in Vervelle's ear,
"and I sold them one by one to Elie Magus for less than ten thousand
francs the whole lot.
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