"In my country, Mrs. Kühler, there was once a poor boy. He was always drawing. Give him a piece of paper and a pencil and he would draw anything in the world. The teacher at school had to forbid him to draw, for he would learn nothing at all. So one day the teacher could not find that boy. And where do you think they find him? Under the table. The teacher pulled him out and found in his hand a piece of paper--a piece of paper. The teacher looked down at the piece of paper and fainted away. The boy had drawn a picture of the teacher so like that he fainted away. Well, when the teacher came to himself, he said: 'Boy, did you do that?' 'Yes,' said the boy, 'I did that.' 'Then, said the teacher, 'I will tell you what you must do. You must paint a portrait of the King and take it to the King, and he will give you money, and carriages, and houses, and rings, and watches, for you and your father, and your uncles and all your family. Ahin and aher. The boy did that. He painted a portrait of the King and he took it to the palace. He went to the front door and knock, knock, knock. A lady opened the door and she said: 'What do you want, little boy?' 'I want to see the King. I have something to show him.' 'I am the Queen,' said the lady. 'You can show it to me.' The boy showed the picture and the Queen fainted away. The servants and the King came running in to see what had happened, and they stood like stone. 'Who did that?' said the King. 'I did,' said the boy. 'I don't believe him,' said the King. 'Shut him up for a day and a night, give him paint and brushes, and we will see what he can do.' Well, they shut the boy up for a day and a night, and in the morning the door was opened and the King and the Queen came in. The King took off his hat and put it on the table and it fell to the ground. That boy had painted a picture of a table so like that the King thought it was a real table and tried to put his hat on it. It is true, and the boy painted the King's portrait every Saturday until he died, and he had houses and money and footmen and statues in his garden, and his father and mother drove in their carriages and wore sables even in the summer. And some day, Mrs. Kühler, we shall see you in your carriage and this boy painting the portrait of the King." The story was received in silence. The emotions it aroused in Golda and her son were so profound, so violent that they were dazed. The tension was relieved by a giggle from Lotte, who knew that kings do not wear hats. Mendel sat staring at his picture, which, try as he would, he could not connect with the story. Abramovich said: "I told you so, Mrs. Kühler. I told you something would come of it." Already he was convinced that Mendel only had to go out into London to make the family's fortune. But Golda replied: "There's time enough for that, and don't go putting ideas into the boy's head."