“You desired to speak to me,” he said, in the arrogant tone that the rich Jews are accustomed to use when speaking to unknown and poor people. “What is your wish, sirs?”
The king’s brow darkened, and he looked angrily at the supercilious man of fortune, who was standing opposite him, with his head proudly thrown back, and his hands in his pockets. But Frederick’s countenance soon cleared, and he said, with perfect composure:
“We wish you to show us your picture-gallery, sir.”
The tone in which he spoke was less pleading than commanding, and roused the anger of the easily enraged parvenu.
“Sir, I have a picture-gallery, arranged for my own pleasure and paid for with my own money. I am very willing to show it to all who have not the money to purchase pictures for themselves, and to satisfy the curiosity of strangers, I have set aside a day in each week on which to exhibit my gallery.”
“You mean, then, sir, that you will not allow us to enter your museum?” said the king, smilingly, and laying his hand at the same time softly on Balby’s arm, to prevent him from speaking.
“I mean that my museum is closed, and—”
A carriage rolled thunderingly to the door; the outer doors of the hall were hastily opened, a liveried servant entered, and stepping immediately to Mr. Abramson, he said:
“Lord Middlestone, of Loudon, asks the honor of seeing your gallery.”
The countenance of the Jewish banker beamed with delight.