THE AUCTION
I35
No response from the room. The price was too high. ‘ A hundred and forty-five. Going----Bender was calmly examining the ceiling. Hippolyte was trembling ; his head was bent. ‘ A hundred and forty-five——’ But before the auctioneer’s hammer fell, Bender turned round, raised his right hand and said quietly : ‘ Two hundred ! ’ All eyes turned towards him, and the auctioneer looked at him intently. ‘ Two hundred. Going----- Two hundred. Are there no other bids ? Two hundred. A walnut suite from the Palace. Ten pieces. Two hundred roubles. Going . . . Going . . . Gone ! ’ Hippolyte gasped. Bender was smiling and the auctioneer shouted : ‘ Sold, miss ! That gentleman in the fourth row to the right.’ ‘ Well, marshal of nobility,’ said Bender, turning towards Hippolyte, ‘ I wonder what you would do without a keeper ? ’ Hippolyte grinned stupidly as the young woman came up to them. ‘ Did you buy the chairs ? ’ ‘ Yes ! ’ shouted Hippolyte, who had been restrain ing himself for so long. ‘ They’re ours ! They’re ours ! ^en can we take them away ? ’ ‘ Whenever you like. Now if you wish.’ ‘ The chairs are ours, ours, ours ! ’ Hippolyte kept saying to himself. He was delighted. He could see a train approaching the St. Gothard ; he was on the observation platform dressed in white trousers and smoking a cigar, while the petals of edelweiss were falling gently on to his head. ‘ And why two hundred and thirty and not two hundred ? ’ he heard Bender say. ‘ Fifteen per cent for commission,’ answered the young woman. ‘ All right. I suppose it can’t be helped. Take it! ’
