The old soldier showed his satisfaction at this announcement.
"But we can't take all this trumpery with us," added the young officer. "You'll have to sell the furniture, but the souvenirs, pictures, and embroideries may be thrown into the fire."
Paul bowed dutifully.
Opposite the young man's bed hung a large oil painting in a great gilt frame; it was the portrait of a famous beauty who had caused herself to be painted as Danaë, and had presented the picture to Richard. The latter now bade his servant get rid of it with the rest of the rubbish. After thoroughly ransacking his drawers for old love-letters, faded flowers, bits of ribbon, and other miscellaneous articles, he left the entire collection for old Paul to destroy, while he himself went out with a lightened conscience to his supper.
The next morning, when Paul brought his master's boots, Richard made some remark on the thoroughness with which his faithful servant had executed his orders. "But surely," he added, "you can't have burnt up the frame of the large painting. What has become of it?"
"Do you suppose I burnt up the picture, either?" asked Paul in his turn. "I am not so crazy as to throw a fine work of art like that into the fire."
"What then have you done with it?" demanded the other, kicking off his bedclothes. "You haven't pawned it, I hope?"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Captain Baradlay said I was to get rid of it," he replied.
"Yes, and that meant that it was to be burnt up," declared Richard.
"Well," returned the servant, "I understood you to mean that it was to be carried to old Solomon and sold for what it would bring."