Andrea could not make up his mind to cross the threshold of that house,
but wandered about the street a long time, weighed down by a horrible
sense of lassitude, a lassitude so overwhelming and desperate as to be
almost a physical longing for death.
At last, seeing a porter come out of the house with a piece of furniture
on his shoulder, he decided to go in. He ran rapidly up the stairs. From
the landing already he could hear the voice of the auctioneer.
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 portieres, 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.
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