The Republican journal., 1871-02-02
A FREAK OF FORTUNE.


to the art school of charity. He was en-
ployed in painting signs and the coarse tap
estry then used in Germany. And he was
about forty years of age, small, ugly and
hump-backed, he was the butt of i'll jokes
among his fellow pupils, and selected as q
special object Of dislike by Madame Durer,
who tormented the scholars and domestics,
as well as the master, by her Nantppical
temper. Poor Duhobret had not a spice of
malice in his heart, and not only bore all his
trials with patience, but eating without COM
plant the scanty crusts given him for dinner,
while his companions Jared better, always
showed himself ready to assist and serve
those who scoffed at him. His industry was
indefatigable. He came to his studies each
morning at daybreak, and worked till sunset.
said nothing of the paintings he had produc-
ed in his lonely chamber by the light of his
lamp. His bodily energies wasted under in
cessant toll. No one cared enough for him
to notice the feverish color in his wrinkled
cheek, or increasing meagreness of his mis-
shapen frame. No one observed that the
poor pittance set aside for his midday meal
remained untouched for several days. The
poor artist made his appearance as usual,
and as meekly bore the gibes OF the students
or the taunts of the lady; working with the
same untiring assiduity, though his hands
trembled and his eyes were often sutlused
with tears.
One morning he was missing from the
scene of his labors, and though Jokes We're
passed about his disappearance, no one
were i'll or dead. lie was indeed prostrated
by the low fever that had been lurking in
his veins and sapping his strength. He was
half delirious and muttered incoherent words,
fancYing his bed surrounded by mocking de-
mons, taunting him with his inability to call
a priest to administer the words of comfort
that might soothe his passage to another
world
From exhausted slumbcrs he awoke faint
and with parched lips; it was the fifth day
he had lain in his cell neglected Feebly he
stretched out his hands towards the carthen
pitcher, and found that it contained not a
drop of water. Slowly and with difficulty he
arose; for lie knew that he must procure
sustenance Or die of want. He had not a
kreutzer. He went to the other end of the
room, took up the picture he had painted
last, and resolved to carry it to 4 dealer, who
might give him for it enough to furnish him
necessaries for a week longer
| On his way he passed a house before which
there was great crowd. There was to be
sale, he learned, of many specimens Of art
collected during thirty years by an amateur.
The wearied Duhobret thought he might here
find market for his picture. He worked
his way through the crowd, dragged himself
up the steps, and found the auctioneer u busy
little man, holdng'a handful Of papers and in
clined to be rough with the lean sallow
| hunchback, who SO eagerly employed his at
| tention.
"What do you call your picture ~ he asked
{! ''lt is view of the Abbey Of Newburg,
with the villIge and landscape" replied the
trembling artist.
The auctioneer looked at him, hummed
contemporary and asked its price.
''Whatever you please; whatever ii will
bring" was the anxious reply.
''Hem with an unf;lyOrable criticism
II can promise you no more than three
thralers''
Poor Duhobret had spent the night of many
months on that place. But he was starving,
and the pittance offered would buy him bread.
tie nodded to the auctioneer and retired to
4 corner.
After many paintings and engrayings had
been sold Duhobret's was exhibited. 'Who
bids? Three thralers Who bids?" was the
cry. The poor artist held his breath; no re-
sponse was heard. Suppose it should not
find purchaser He dared not look up; he
thought everybody was looking at the folly OF
| offering SO worthless Il piece at public sale.
''lt is certainly my best work :" he murmur-
ed piteously to himself He ventured to
glance at the picture as the auctioneer held
it up III favorable light. There was GER
tainly beautiful freshness in the rich foliage,
transparency i'll the water, a freedom and
life in the animals The steeple, the trees,
the whole landscape, showing the genius Of
an artist Alas he felt the last throb of an
artists vanity. The dead silence continued,
and, turning away, he buried his face in his
hands
Twenty one thralers ~ Il faint voice called
out. The stupetied painter gave Il start of
| Joy, and looked to see who had uttered those
blessed words. 1t was the picture dealer to
whom he was first TO 90
"Fifty thralers!' cried the sonorous voice of
tall man in black
There was L moments silence. 'One
hundred thralers - at length cried that pic
ture dealer, evidently plqued and an Nious.
1.-Two hundred.' ~
''Three hundred -
"Four hundred.'
"One thousand thralers -
| Another profound silence; and tho crowd
pressed around the two opponents, who stood
| opposite to each other with flushed and an
CRY faces.
Inc tall stranger DDS fifteen hundred.
| thralers -
"Two thousand thralers!" thundered the
picture dealer, glancing around him trillm-
phantly.
'Ten thousand" yociferated the tail man
his face crimson with rage, and h is hands
cllnched convulsvely.
The dealer grew pale, his frame shook
with agitation. His voice was sutlocated :;
but after two or three efforts he cried out ::
Twenty thousand !"
His tall opponent bid forty thousand. The
dealer hesitated. His adversary laughed y
low laugh of insolent triumph, and the crowd
gave murmur of admiration. The picture
nealed felt his reputation at stake, and called
out in sheer desperation
''Fifty thousand.'
The tail man hesitatcd; the crowd was
breathless. At length, tossing his arms in
defiance he shouted:
"One hundred thousand!' adding an i'm
patient exercration against his adversary
The crestfallen picture dealer withdrew,
passed through the wondering people, went
out, and was going along the street, when a
decrepit lame, humpback wretch tottering
along by the aid of stick, presented him
self before him. The stranger threw him q
piece Of money, and waved his hand as if
dispensing with thanks.
''May it please your honor" persisted the
supposed bcggar," 1 am the painter of that
picture" He..rubbed his eyes, for he had hard
ly yet been able to persuade himself that he
had not been dreaming
The tall man was Count Bunkclsbach,
one of the richest noblemen in Germany.