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By Root 946 0

my way. There’s nothing to be done about that. Other people become embarrassed, feeling uneasy about showing me a frying pan without a bottom, for example. That shows how little they know about it. This is true particularly for those simple souls who have no idea how highly developed collection mania has become. I use the word mania on purpose, recognizing that it is a mania pure and simple that drives me, and so I call the thing by its right name. However, that concerns me alone, it’s my own affair. What I meant to say is this: the reluctance of these people to show an antique is both ridiculous and foolish. How about the looks of those weapons and rings they dig out of the ancient barrows? But does that mean they have no value? Right you are, miss! You should see my collection of cowbells, for instance! I have one bell—of simple sheet iron, by the way—which has even been worshiped as a deity by an Indian tribe. Just imagine, it hung for ever so many years on a tent pole in their camp, receiving prayers and sacrifices. What do you say to that! But I seem to be getting away from my errand. When I get going on the subject of my bells, I tend to speak overmuch.”

“But I really don’t have any old things like that,” Martha repeated.

“May I,” Nagel said slowly, with a knowledgeable air, “may I, for example, have a look at that chair over there? It’s only a question, naturally I won’t make a move unless I have your permission. 6 Incidentally, I’ve sort of had my eye on it from where I’m sitting ever since I came in.”

Bewildered, Martha replies, “That chair—. Please help yourself.... The legs are broken—”

“Quite right, the legs are broken! And so what? What does that matter! Just because of that, perhaps, just because of that! May I ask where you got it?”

By this time Nagel was holding the chair in his hand, twisting and turning it every way and inspecting it at every point. It had no gilding, only a single ornament on its back, a sort of coronet carved out of mahogany. Incidentally, the back had been cut up with a knife. The frame around the seat had been used for shredding tobacco in several places; the marks could still be seen.

“We got it somewhere abroad, I don’t know where. My grandfather once brought home several of these chairs, but this is the only one left. My grandfather was a sailor.”

“Really. And your father, was he also a sailor?”

“Yes.”

“Then, perhaps, you sailed with him? Excuse my asking.”

“Yes, I sailed with him for many years.”

“Really? How interesting! You’ve seen many lands, plowed the salty waves, as they say! Well, what do you know! And then you settled down here again? Yeah, sure, there’s no place like home, ah, home.... By the way, you have no idea where your grandfather picked up this chair, do you? You see, it’s very important to me to know something about an article’s history, to become familiar with its life story, so to speak.”

“No, I don’t know where he picked it up, it’s so long ago. In Holland, maybe? No, I don’t know.”

He was pleased to note that she was becoming more and more animated. She had moved to the front of the room and now stood almost right next to him, while he fussed with the chair as though he couldn’t look his fill at it. He talked on and on, remarking on the workmanship and going into raptures when he discovered, on the reverse of the back, a small inlaid disk, in which another disk had been inlaid in turn—simple work, tasteless child’s play that hadn’t even been accurately executed. The chair was rotten, and he handled it very carefully.

“Well,” she then said, “if you really—I mean, if it would give you pleasure to own that chair, I’ll gladly let you have it. I’ll bring it to the hotel myself if you wish. I have no use for it.” And suddenly she couldn’t help laughing at his eagerness to possess himself of this worm-eaten piece of furniture. “It has really got only one good leg!” she said.

He looked at her. Her hair was white, but her smile was youthful and spirited, and her teeth were fine. When she laughed her eyes grew moist and glistened. What a black-eyed old