The sale was going on in the largest room of the suite—the one in which the Buddha had stood. The buyers were gathered round the auctioneer's table. They were, for the most part, shopkeepers, second-hand furniture dealers and the lower classes generally. There being little competition in summer when town was empty, the dealers rushed in, sure of obtaining costly articles for next to nothing. A vile odour permeated the hot air exhaled by the crowd of dirty and perspiring people.
Andrea felt stifled. He wandered into the other rooms, where nothing had been left but the wall hangings, the curtains, and the portières, the other things having been collected in the sale room. Although he was walking on a thick carpet, he heard his footsteps as distinctly as if the boards had been bare.
He found himself presently in a semicircular room. The walls were deep red, with here and there a sparkle of gold, giving the impression of a temple or a tomb, a sad and mysterious sanctuary fit for praying in, or for dying. The crude, hard light blazing in through the open windows seemed like a violation.
He returned to the auction room. Again he breathed the nauseating atmosphere. He turned round, and in a corner of the room perceived the Princess of Ferentino and Barbarella Viti. He bowed and went over to them.
'Well, Ugenta, what have you bought?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing? Why, I should have thought you would buy everything.'
'Indeed, why?'
'Oh, it was just an idea of mine—a romantic idea.'
The princess laughed and Barbarella joined in.