"Fifteen," I said.

Why? I did not know. Doubtless for the something written.

"Fifteen," repeated the auctioneer.

"Thirty," said the first bidder in a tone which seemed to defy
further competition.

It had now become a struggle. "Thirty-five," I cried in the same
tone.

"Forty."

"Fifty."

"Sixty."

"A hundred."

If I had wished to make a sensation I should certainly have
succeeded, for a profound silence had ensued, and people gazed at
me as if to see what sort of a person it was, who seemed to be so
determined to possess the volume.

The accent which I had given to my last word seemed to convince
my adversary; he preferred to abandon a conflict which could only
have resulted in making me pay ten times its price for the
volume, and, bowing, he said very gracefully, though indeed a