Finally the youth succeeded in freeing his present from its wrappings, and placed it on the table with an air of great solemnity. It was a moderately tall candelabrum of antique bronze and of artistic workmanship. It represented two female figures somewhat scantily attired, and bearing an air of frivolity to describe which I have neither the required daring nor the temperament. The figures smiled coquettishly, and looked as if they were ready to jump on the floor and to engage in some wild frolic, were they not restrained by the task of supporting the candle holder. The doctor regarded his present for a few moments in silence, then scratched his head and coughed irresolutely. “A beautiful article, to be sure,” he finally said. “But you know--what shall I say? Why, it is hardly the thing, you know. Talk of _déshabillé_! This is beyond the bounds of propriety. The devil!” “W-w-why?” “Now, how could I put a thing like that on my table? It will corrupt my residence.” “Doctor, you surprise me,” answered Alexander, with an offended tone, “What queer views of art! This is a work of art! Look at it! What beauty, what delicacy of workmanship! It fills the soul with joy merely to look at it; it brings tears to one’s eyes. Observe the movement, the atmosphere, the expression!” [Illustration: =Anton Chekhov=] “I fully appreciate it, my boy,” interrupted the physician. “But you know I am a man of family. I have children. A mother-in-law. Ladies call here.” “Of course, if you look at it from the point of view of the common herd, you might regard it in a different light. But I beg of you, rise above the mob. Your refusal would hurt the feelings of my mother and of myself. I am her only son. You saved my life. We are asking you to accept something we hold very dear. I only deplore the fact that we have no companion piece to it.” “Thank you, dear fellow, and thank your mother. I see that I can not reason with you. But you should have thought of my children, you know, and the ladies. But I fear you will not listen to arguments.” “No use arguing, doctor,” replied the grateful patient, made happy by the implied acceptance. “You put it right here, next to the Japanese vase. What a pity I have not the pair. What a pity!” When his caller departed the doctor thoughtfully regarded his unwelcome present. He scratched his head and pondered. “It is an exquisite thing, without doubt. It would be a pity to throw it into the street. It is quite impossible to leave it here, though. What a dilemma to be in. To whom could I give it? How to get rid of it?” Finally he bethought himself of Ukhoff, a dear friend of his school days, and a rising lawyer, who had just successfully represented him in some trifling case. “Good,” said the doctor. “As a friend he refused to charge me a fee, and it is perfectly proper that I should make him a present. Besides, he is a single man and tremendously sporty.”